“Nothing, perhaps, that you have not a perfect right to do if you think proper; but, however, I will not be troubled about it--I will not!” She applied her handkerchief to her eyes. “I am sorry for having interrupted you; but, since you are so much better engaged than with me, I will never trouble you again as long as I live!” “Will you hear me?” demanded Colin. “It is of no use. I am satisfied. You have a right to do as you think proper.” “Of course I have, so long as I do right?” “Right!” “Yes, right. I have not injured you. I never told you I loved _you_--never!” Those words startled Fanny as with the shock of an earthquake; shattering to fragments in one instant that visionary palace of Hope, which her heart had been occupied for years in rearing. She looked incredulously in his face, as though doubtful of his identity, and then burst into a flood of tears. “True,” she murmured, “you never did--never! I have betrayed myself. But here, sir,” and she assumed as much firmness of manner as possible, while she held a small packet out for his acceptance. “Take this; for I came to give it you. It is all your mother and I----” Her breathing became heavy and convulsive. “We read your letter, and--Oh, save me! save me!” She fell insensible into the arms of Mrs. Popple, who instantly, at Colin's request, carried her into Miss Wintlebury's room, and placed her on the sofa. The packet had fallen from her hand. It contained the three guineas which Colin had formerly given to her, besides two from his mother, and the whole amount of Fanny's own savings during the time she had been in service, making in all between eight and nine pounds. Her unexpected appearance is readily explained. On perusing the melancholy news contained in that letter of Colin's, to which Fanny had alluded, she and his mother instantly formed the very natural conclusion that, bad as he had described his situation to be, he would endeavour to make the best of it to them; and that, therefore, to a positive certainty it was very much worse than his description would literally imply. A thousand imaginary dangers surrounding him, thronged upon their minds, which, they concluded, nothing short of a personal visit could modify or avert. Nothing less, indeed, could satisfy their feelings upon the subject; and hence it was agreed between them that, instead of writing to him, Fanny should undertake the journey, carrying with her all the money for his use which their joint efforts could procure. The attentions of Mrs. Popple and Miss Wintlebury soon brought the young woman again to herself. “Let me go!” said she. “I will return home to-night! I cannot stay here! I cannot bear it!” “No, Fanny,” observed Colin, “that you shall not. You have mistaken me much--very much; when, if you knew all, you would be the first in the world to applaud me for what I have done.” “I shall never be happy any more!” sighed Fanny almost inaudibly.