“How do you do, Miss Haste?” she said, with a slight nervous tremor of her voice. “I did not know that you were up here,” and she stopped; but her look seemed to add, “And I wonder why you have come.” “I am going to leave Bradmouth, and I came to say good-bye to Mr. Levinger, who has always been very kind to me,” Joan replied, with characteristic openness, answering the look and not the words. She felt that, in the circumstances, it was best that she should be open with Miss Levinger. Emma looked surprised. “I was not aware that you were going,” she said; but again Joan felt that what astonished her was not the news of her approaching departure, but the discovery that she was on intimate terms with her father. She was right. Emma remembered that he had spoken disparagingly of this girl, and as though he knew nothing about her. It seemed curious, then, that he should have been “very kind” to her, and that she should come to bid him good-bye. Here was another of those mysteries with which her father’s life seemed to be surrounded, and which so frequently made her feel uncomfortable and afraid of she knew not what. “Won’t you come in and have some tea?” Emma asked kindly. “No, thank you, miss; I have to walk home, and I must not stay any longer.” “It is a long way, and you look tired. Let me order the dog-cart for you.” “Indeed no, thank you. I haven’t been very well—that is why I am paler than usual. But I am quite strong again now,” and Joan made a movement as though to start on her walk. “If you will allow me, I will come a little way with you,” said Emma timidly. “I shall be very pleased, miss.” The two girls turned, and, for a while, walked side by side in silence, each of them wondering about the other and the man who was dear to both. “Are you going to be a nurse?” asked Emma at length. “Oh no! What made you think that?” “Because you nursed Captain—I mean Sir Henry—Graves so wonderfully,” Emma answered, colouring. “Dr. Childs told me he believed that you saved his life.” “Then I have done something in the world,” said Joan, with a little laugh; “but it is the first that I have heard of it.” “Really! Haven’t they thanked you?” “Somebody offered to pay me, if you mean that, miss.” “No, no; I didn’t mean it. I meant that we are all grateful to you, so very grateful—at least, his family are. Then what do you intend to do when you go away?” she asked, changing the subject suddenly. “I don’t know, miss. Earn my living as best I can—as a shop girl probably.” “It seems rather terrible starting by oneself out into the unknown, like this. Does it not frighten you?” “Perhaps it does,” answered Joan; “but beggars cannot be choosers. I can’t stop here, where I have nothing to do; and, you see, I am alone in the world.” Emma understood the allusion, and said hastily: