When they stopped at the gate, no light was visible; Anne knocked, but crippled old Nora was long in coming. When she did open the door, it was a room nearly as cold as the air outside into which the guest was ushered. As Li was obliged to return with the horse, his willing hands were absent, and the young mistress of the house went out herself, brought in candles and kindling-wood, and was stooping to light the fire, when Dexter took the wood from her, led her to a chair, seated her despotically, and made the fire himself. Then, standing before it, he looked all round the room, slowly and markedly and in silence; afterward his eyes came back to her. "So this is where you live--all the home you have!" "It is but a temporary home. Some day I hope to go back to the island," replied Anne. "When you have, by teaching, made money enough to live upon, I suppose. It looks like it _here_," he said, with sarcastic emphasis. "It has not been so cold before," answered Anne. "The house has an empty look, I acknowledge; that is because I supposed it was furnished; but finding it bare, I decided to purchase only necessary articles. What is the use of buying much for a temporary home?" "Of course. So much better to do without, especially in this weather!" "I assure you we have not been uncomfortable until, perhaps, to-night." "May I ask the amount, Miss Douglas, of your present income?" "I do not think you ought to ask," said the poverty-stricken young mistress, bravely. "But I do ask. And you--will answer." "It has been, although not large, sufficient for our needs," replied Anne, who, in spite of her desire to hide the truth from him, was yet unable to put the statement into the present tense; but she hoped that he would not notice it. On the contrary, however, Dexter answered instantly: "Has been? Then it is not now?" "I have recently lost my place in a church choir; but I hope soon to obtain another position." "And in the mean time you live on--hope? Forgive me if I seem inquisitive and even harsh, Miss Douglas; but you do not realize how all this impresses me. The last time I saw you you were richly dressed, a favorite in a luxurious circle, the reputed heiress of a large fortune. Little more than a year passes, and I meet you in the street at twilight, alone and desolate; I come to your home, and find it cold and empty; I look at you, and note your dress. You can offer me nothing, hardly a fire. It hurts me, Anne--hurts me deeply--to think that all this time I have had every luxury, while _you_ have suffered." "No, not suffered," she replied. But her voice trembled. This strong assertive kindness touched her lonely heart keenly.