"Just what I say," she replied, recovering herself, and resuming her usual tone and manner as soon as he released her from the spell of his earnestness and passion--"I am going away. I don't treat you quite so badly as you try to make out, you see, or I should not tell you about it, or consult you, or anything, but just go--go right away, you know, and make an end of it." Routh's stern face flushed, and then darkened with a look which Harriet had learned to know, but which Mrs. Ireton P. Bembridge had never seen. She did not see it now, and continued: "I sent for you to tell you this. I don't like the place; I'm tired of it. It's too small, and yet every one comes here, and I'm talked of. Ah, you sneer! Well, I know. I remember all I have said about that, but it is one thing to be talked of in London or Paris, and quite another to be the object of the daily curiosity and the malice--" "You mean the envy, don't you?" "No, I don't, I mean the malice; well the envy, or the malice, or only the observation, if you like, of always the same people, whom I meet in always the same places. This is a part of my reason, but only a part. I don't like Mr. Felton, I don't like Mr. Dallas; less than any people in the world I choose to have them to spy and overlook me; and--and--I don't want to be here when that man comes." Routh stood before her quite silent. "You know--you remember," she said with a smile, "Arthur Felton. By-the-by, you need not make faces about my wearing his photograph any more, for I've lost it--lost it before I got home yesterday. In fact, I suspect he is in some trouble--perhaps in some disgrace--and I have no fancy for being here when he arrives, to have him quarrelling with me if I avoid him, and his father regarding me with horror if I don't; so--" and here she knelt on the white rug and stretched out her hands to the fire, which shone reflected in her upraised eyes--"so I am going to--" She paused, tantalizing him. "To--?" he repeated after her, almost in a whisper. "To London," she said; and laughed and looked at him, and rose. "Now sit down, and let us talk it over, and be reasonable." Still quite silent, Routh obeyed her. His manner, his look was changed. He was thoughtful; but an air of relief had come upon him, as if unexpected help had reached him from an unforeseen quarter. There was no light in the window, as Routh passed it by, returning to his lodgings. But there was a lamp in the hall, at which he lighted a candle, and went into the sitting-room. Harriet was still sitting by the window; she did not raise or turn her head, and Routh thought she was sleeping. He went up close to her, and then she languidly opened her eyes and rose. "Have you fallen asleep here, in the dark, Harriet?" said Routh, "and without a fire! How imprudent and unnecessary!"