“I must leave you,” said he, taking up his hat. “Oh, but stay and dine with us,” she pleaded. “Indeed, I can’t,” he replied. “I must go and relieve the Captain, who is watching over Antony, and wondering what has become of me.” “True,” she answered. “And I must go make my toilette, for I am in a state. But, John, when shall I see you again? You know we have this matter of Emily and Wentworth to look into.” “I declare I forgot it. This business quite drove it from my mind,” exclaimed Harrington, quickly. “What have you heard?” “Not a word,” she answered. “Emily appeared at breakfast with the story of a sleepless night in her poor lack-lustre eyes. I said nothing, for I had no chance, and since then she has kept herself locked up in her chamber. There is something passing strange in this. Have you seen Wentworth?” “No, Muriel. It is the first day I have not seen him for I know not how long. I should have gone in search of him to get at the bottom of this matter, but for my strange adventure last night. And Emily—I declare I must see Emily, for I have something to say to her.” “About this, John?” “No.” Harrington colored. “About something else.” Muriel smiled faintly, thinking this the desire of a lover’s heart. “Well, John,” she said, “let me tell her you are here.” Harrington hesitated, thinking whether he ought to keep the Captain on duty longer. On the other hand, he felt the need of an immediate understanding with Emily. With this mingled a sense of how painful and embarrassing an interview it would be. Would this time be well chosen for it, when Emily was already in sorrow? No. He concluded that he must wait. Muriel, while he deliberated, had moved slowly to the door, awaiting his decision, and seeing that he seemed unable to make up his mind, resolved to decide for him. “I’ll call her,” she said, vanishing from the room, just as Harrington had made his conclusion. Harrington sprang forward to stop her, stumbled over a stool, and nearly fell, and when he reached the entry Muriel was not to be seen. “Good!” he muttered, with some chagrin. “It seems the Fates have decided that the explanation is to ensue now.” He threw down his hat, and tried to think what he should say. As usual in such cases he could think of nothing. “A pretty plight I’m in to see anybody,” he muttered, glancing at his dust-covered garments, and conscious that a bath would improve him. Suddenly, long before he had expected her, the door opened, and Emily, pale as marble, with her eyes swollen with weeping, came into the library with a movement so unlike in its rapidity, her usual sumptuous and slow stateliness, that Harrington was startled. She came straight up to him with outstretched hands, her lips parted, the tears flowing from her eyes, and so agonized and desperate a look on her face, that it shocked him.