'I'm afraid not; she said I had better ask you to excuse her this morning.' Emily gathered up two or three books which lay on the other chair. 'You find her rather troublesome to teach, I should be afraid,' Dagworthy pursued, watching her every moment. 'Jessie isn't much for study, is she?' 'Perhaps she is a little absent now and then,' replied Emily, saying the first thing that occurred to her. She had collected her books and was about to fasten a strap round them. 'Do let me do that for you,' said Dagworthy, and he forestalled her assent, which she would probably not have given, by taking the books from her hands. He put up his foot on the chair, as if for the convenience of doing the strapping on his knee, but before he had finished it he spoke again. 'You are fond of teaching, I suppose?' 'Yes, I like it.' She stood in expectant waiting, her hands held together before her, her head just bent. The attitude was grace itself. Dagworthy raised his eyes slowly from her feet to her face. 'But you wouldn't care to go on with it always?' 'I--I don't think about it,' she replied, nervousness again seizing her. There was a new look in his eyes, a vehemence, a fervour, which she dared not meet after the first glance. He would not finish the strapping of the books, and she could not bid him do so. Had she obeyed her instinct, she would have hastened away, heedless of anything but the desire to quit his presence. 'How long will your holidays be?' he asked, letting the books fall to the chair, as if by accident. 'Till the end of September, I think.' 'So long? I'm glad to hear that. You will come again some day to my house with your father, won't you?' The words trembled upon his lips; it was not like his own voice, he could not control it. 'Thank you, Mr. Dagworthy,' she replied. He bent to the books again, and this time succeeded in binding them together. As he fastened the buckle, drops of perspiration fell from his forehead. Emily thanked him, and held forth her hand for the books. He took it in his own. 'Miss Hood--' She drew her hand away, almost by force, and retreated a step; his face terrified her. 'I sent Jessie off on purpose,' he continued. 'I knew you were here, and wanted to speak to you alone. Since I met you that day on the Heath, I have had no rest--I've wanted so to see you again. The other morning at the Cartwrights' it was almost more than I could do to go away. I don't know what's come to me; I can't put you out of my thoughts for one minute; I can't give my attention to business, to anything. I meant to have gone away before now, but I've put it off, day after day; once or twice I've all but come to your house, to ask to see you--'