This prattle was interrupted by Rhoda Gale putting her right wrist round Zoe's neck, and laying her forehead on her shoulder with a little sob. So then they both distilled the inevitable dew-drops. But as Rhoda was not much given that way, she started up, and said, “Darkness? No; I must see the face that has come here to help me, and not humiliate me. That is the first use I'll make of the money. I am afraid you are rather plain, or you couldn't be so good as all this.” “No,” said Zoe. “I'm not reckoned plain; only as black as a coal.” “All the more to my taste,” said Rhoda, and flew out of the room, and nearly stumbled over a figure seated on a step of the staircase. “Who are you?” said she, sharply. “My name is Severne.” “And what are you doing there?” “Waiting for Miss Vizard.” “Come in, then.” “She told me not.” “Then I tell you _to._ The idea! Miss Vizard!” “Yes!” “Please have Mr. Severne in. Here he is sitting--like Grief--on the steps. I will soon be back.” She flew to the landlady. “Mrs. Grip, I want a candle.” “Well, the shops are open,” said the woman, rudely. “Oh, I have no time. Here is a sovereign. Please give me two candles directly, candlesticks and all.” The woman's manner changed directly. “You shall have them this moment, miss, and my own candlesticks, which they are plated.” She brought them, and advised her only to light one. “They don't carry well, miss,” said she. “They are wax--or summat.” “Then they are summat,” said Miss Gale, after a single glance at their composition. “I'll make you a nice hot supper, miss, in half an hour,” said the woman, maternally, as if she were going to _give_ it her. “No, thank you. Bring me a two-penny loaf, and a scuttle of coals.” “La, miss, no more than that--out of a sov'?” “Yes--THE CHANGE.” Having shown Mrs. Grip her father was a Yankee, she darted upstairs, with her candles. Zoe came to meet her, and literally dazzled her. Rhoda stared at her with amazement and growing rapture. “Oh, you beauty!” she cried, and drank her in from head to foot. “Well,” said she, drawing a long breath, “Nature, you have turned out a _com-_plete article this time, I reckon.” Then, as Severne laughed merrily at this, she turned her candle and her eyes full on him very briskly. She looked at him for a moment, with a gratified eye at his comeliness; then she started. “Oh!” she cried. He received the inspection merrily, till she uttered that ejaculation, then he started a little, and stared at her. “We have met before,” said she, almost tenderly. “Have we?” said he, putting on a mystified air. She fixed him, and looked him through and through. “You--don't--remember--me?” asked she. Then, after giving him plenty of time to answer, “Well, then, I must be mistaken;” and her words seemed to freeze themselves and her as they fell.