A long hour passed. The garden was fresh and cool; the declining sun mellowed the gray walls and kindled many little suns in the vine-draped windows; the sparrows flitted quickly with short chirrups from tree to tree; and the crooning of the hens added completeness to the peace and tenderness that breathed in the air. Once again Nelly was on Holdsworth’s knee, fetching vague replies from her struggling perceptions for his questions, when Mrs. Parrot came out of the house and said that Mrs. Conway was in the sitting-room, waiting to take her little girl home. Holdsworth glanced quickly at the window of the room, but did not see her. He put the child down hurriedly, and said: “There, my little pet, run along with Mrs. Parrot.” “Won’t you come and speak to Mrs. Conway, sir?” asked Mrs. Parrot. “She wants to thank you for your kindness.” “No--no--pray don’t let her call it kindness,” stammered Holdsworth, who was very pale. “I’m sure she’ll take it unkind if you won’t let her thank you, sir,” said Mrs. Parrot earnestly. “She’s been watching you both through the window for the last five minutes, an’ I couldn’t help tellin’ her what a fine treat you have given Miss Nelly. Besides, she’s seen them toys,” she added, looking at Nelly’s presents. A whole lifetime of nervous pain was in that moment’s pause. Could he meet her, speak to her, and remain unknown? His desire was to hide. It seemed inconceivable that in five years such a change should be wrought in him as to render him unrecognisable by his wife. But the pressing necessity of immediate action was too sudden to give his imagination time to alarm his judgment. He must dare the encounter, since it was not to be obviated by any means which might not prove more productive of suspicion than bold confrontment. He laid the utmost tyranny of his will upon his feelings, and saying: “Perhaps you are right, Mrs. Parrot. Mrs. Conway will think me rude if I do not see her,” took Nelly’s hand and walked with her to the house. Dolly was seated in an arm-chair near the fireplace, leaning her cheek on her hand. Her attitude showed that she had been watching the group in the garden. She stood up when Holdsworth entered and bowed to him. Nelly ran to her, holding up her doll. “Look, mamma!” The action was timely; it enabled Holdsworth to walk to the side of the window, where the shadow lay darkest, and there he stood. This he had sense enough to do; but for a moment or two the room swam round him, and he grasped the back of a chair. _Would she know him?_ That thought swept like a galvanic shock through him, and made his blood tingle. It brought hope with it and fear; a wild paradoxical emotion of yearning love and the blighting sense of the sorrow and dishonour recognition would involve. “I have to thank you very much, Mr. Hampden, for your attention to my little girl,” she said in a low sweet voice--how remembered!