She glanced at him quickly and sympathetically, as he said he was alone, and sighed. Holdsworth noticed that her dress was very shabby; but her beauty lost nothing by her apparel. He thought her looking sweeter than when he had left her five years before. Her riper charms were made touching by an under colouring of sadness, and there was languor in her movements and speech--sign of heart-weariness. “It is time for us to get home, Nelly,” she said, looking uneasily towards the window. “Go and give Mr. Hampden a kiss, and thank him prettily for his beautiful presents.” The child approached Holdsworth, who kissed her gently, repressing the passionate emotion that, had he been alone, would have prompted him to raise her in his arms and press her to his breast. “Here are some little cakes,” he said, taking the parcel Mrs. Parrot had prepared, and giving them to the child, but addressing Dolly, “which will amuse her to play with. When may she come again, Mrs. Conway?” “Oh, she must not intrude ...” “No, no! she cannot come too often. Pray let me make a companion of her. She has completely won my heart. May she not walk with me sometimes? I promise to take as much care of her as if she were my own child.” He had advanced a step and spoke eagerly, bending forward; but meeting her full eyes fixed on him with a little frown of mingled fear and amazement, he turned pale, fell back a step, and forcing a smile, said hurriedly: “I am sometimes--sometimes laughed at for--for my love of children.” She did not answer him for some moments, but stood watching him with a startled expression, suggesting both fascination and terror. Then she averted her eyes slowly, the colour went out of her cheeks, and she murmured something under her breath. “You remind me of one who was very dear to me ... I beg your pardon ... there is often a strange resemblance in the tones of voices.” She took the child’s hand, and was mechanically walking to the door. “Me want dolly and horse,” said Nelly, holding back. Holdsworth picked up the toys, and went into the passage to open the door. They bowed to each other, and Holdsworth returned to the sitting-room. * * * * * The moment he had dreaded had come and was gone. He had met his wife, spoken with her, and she did not know him. He had noticed the sudden surprise and fear that had come into her face; he had noticed the deeply thoughtful mood in which she had quitted the house. But these things proved no more than this: that a note, familiar to her ear, still lived in the tones of his voice, and had aroused for awhile the memory which rarely disturbed her now, save in dreams at night.