One thin, white, withered hand hung down by his side. With a sudden impulse of strange affection she stepped forward, raised the hand to her lips, dropped it, and would have hurried away; but the hand she had kissed was laid in benediction on her bright young head as the old man murmured: “God bless you, my child! How kindly that was meant. Go now and take your walk.” Em. left the room, ran up to her attic chamber for hat and shawl, and then ran downstairs out of the house to the stony front yard overlooking the descent of the precipice. Here she was quickly joined by Ronald Bruce, who had seen her from the front drawing-room windows and ran out into the place. “Em.,” he whispered as he joined her, “you have not answered my question yet. Are we both to be made miserable all our lives by the sinful pride of our relatives?” “Yes, I did answer you, Ronald; but I will answer you again. We cannot tell how this will end; but whatever other people do, _we_ must do what is right. And, Ronald, if you _do_ care for me, as I believe, please do not follow me about or try to meet me anywhere. It is not discreet. Now do but look! There is Miss Belinda Warde watching us from the front parlor windows!” Ronald turned to catch a glimpse of the lady’s face, which was withdrawn the instant it was detected. “I am going in,” said Em. “So am I,” said Ronald. “I only came out here to speak to you, and I don’t care if all the fine ladies in Christendom watch me. I will let them see that I love you, Em.; for I _do_ love you, and I _will_ marry you in spite of them all.” They returned to the house and Em. ran upstairs to get ready for lunch. Ronald went into the drawing-room, sulkily threw himself into a chair, took up a book and pretended to be absorbed in reading, in order to escape any interchange of words with Miss Warde. But still he did not feel any more at ease when Belinda, with an offended air, arose and left the room. The family met at luncheon. Commodore Bruce treated Em. with more than previous kindness; but the sensitive girl perceived a shadow of coldness in the manner of the ladies towards her, and she wondered whether Miss Warde had not been making mischief by certain misrepresentations. After luncheon, just as the ladies were about to leave the room, Mrs. Bruce called to Em.: “Miss Palmer, I wish to speak with you alone. Follow me to my room.” “I was going there, madam, to resume my needlework,” replied Em. as she obeyed the directions of the lady. When they had reached Mrs. Bruce’s chamber the latter inquired: “When is your father coming for you, Miss Palmer?” “On Saturday evening, madam, when he will take me home to stay over Sunday, if you please,” modestly and respectfully replied the girl. “Very well. It pleases me quite well. And you need not take the trouble to return on Monday. I shall have no further occasion for your services after this week,” said the lady with cold hauteur.