“Who are you?” cried the master of the house; “you wait till my missis comes and finds you there; she don’t hold with no tramp; and I see her a-coming round the corner,” he continued, in tones in which exultation had triumphed over fright. No tramp could have been more moved by the words than was Jack. He resisted the passing impulse he had to stride into the kitchen and strangle Mr. Swayne in passing; and then, with one knock by way of preface, he went in without further introduction into the parlor where Mrs. Preston was alone. It was almost quite dark--dark with that bewildering summer darkness which is more confusing than positive night. Something got up hastily from the sofa at the sight of him, and gave a little suppressed shriek of alarm. “Don’t be alarmed--it is only I, Mrs. Preston,” said Jack. He made a step forward and looked at her, as probably she too was looking at him; but they could not see each other, and it was no comfort to Pamela’s mother to be told by Jack Brownlow, that it was only I. “Has any thing happened?” she cried; “what is it? what is it? oh my child!--for God’s sake, whoever you are, tell me what it is.” “There is nothing the matter with her,” said Jack, steadily. “I am John Brownlow, and I have come to speak to you; that is what it is.” “John Brownlow,” said Mrs. Preston, in consternation--and then her tone changed. “I am sorry I did not know you,” she said; “but if you have any business with me, sir, I can soon get a light.” “Indeed I have the most serious business,” said Jack--it was in his mind to say that he would prefer being without a light; but there would have been something too familiar and undignified for the occasion in such a speech as that. “Wait a moment,” said Mrs. Preston, and she hastened out, leaving him in the dark parlor by himself. Of course he knew it was only a pretext--he knew as well as if she had told him that she had gone to establish a watch for Pamela to prevent her from coming in while he was there; and this time he laughed outright. She might have done it an hour ago, fast enough; but now to keep Pamela from him was more than all the fathers and mothers in the world could do. He laughed at the vain precaution. It was not that he had lost all sense of prudence, or that he was not aware how foolish a thing in many respects he was doing; but notwithstanding, he laughed at the idea that any thing, stone walls and iron bars, or admonitions, or parental orders, could keep her from him. It might be very idiotic--and no doubt it was; but if any body dreamed for a moment that he could be made to give her up! or that she could be wrested out of his grasp now that he had possession of her--any deluded individual who might entertain such a notion could certainly know nothing of Jack.