The formal and ceremonious old gentleman did not ask my reasons for this sudden act--he simply inclined his head--and said that he would always be glad to serve me. With a momentary pressure of Annie's cold hand, and a low bow to the frigid Mrs. Barrington, I departed. VI. Five years have passed away. They have been eventful ones to me--not for the unhoped for success which I have had in my profession, so much as for the long suffering which drove me, violently as it were, to seek relief in unceasing toil. The thought of Annie has been ever with me--my pain, though such a term is slight, was caused by my leaving her. I never knew how much I loved her until all those weary miles were thrown between us. My days have been most unhappy, my nights drearier still; for a long time now, I have not thought or said "how good a thing it is to live!" But I acted wisely, and honorably; did I not? I did my duty, when the temptation to neglect it was exceeding hard to resist. I went away from the woman whom I loved, because I loved her, and respected my own name and honor, too much to remain. It was better to break my heart, I said, than take advantage of my position at the hall, to engage a young girl's heart, and drag her down, in case she loved me, to the poor low sphere in which I moved. If her father had said to me, "You have abused the trust I placed in you, and acted with duplicity," I think it would have ruined me, forever, in my own esteem. And would he not have had the right to say it? So I came away from the temptation while I could, and plunged into my proper work on earth, and found relief; but I loved her still. Shall I speak of the correspondence which ensued between the squire and myself? 'Twas a somewhat singular one, and revealed to me something which I was before quite ignorant of. It is here beneath my hand; let us look at it. It passed soon after my departure: "Barrington Hall, Nov. 20, 18--. "MY DEAR YOUNG FRIEND: "Since your somewhat abrupt departure, I have considered that event with some attention, and fear that it was occasioned by a want of kindness in myself, or some member of my family. I saw with regret that Mrs. Barrington did not seem to look upon you with as much favor as I hoped. If any word or action of mine has wounded you, I pray you to forget and pardon it. "Your friend, "C. BARRINGTON. "P.S. Pray present my best regards to your mother, who was many long years ago, a very dear friend of mine." My reply was in the following words: "MY DEAR MR. BARRINGTON: "Pray set your mind at rest upon the subject of my somewhat hasty departure: 'twas caused by no want of courtesy in any member of the household at the hall, but by unavoidable circumstances. You will not think me wanting in candor or sincerity when I add that I think these circumstances were better not alluded to at present. "Truly and faithfully, "ST. GEORGE CLEAVE."