Cannon strove hard to keep alive a conversation; but the task of doing so was left altogether to himself. I could give him but little help; and from Jessie he received no assistance whatever. The painful interview was interrupted by the entrance of Mr H--, whose deportment towards us, seemed even more altered than that of his daughter. I could easily perceive, that he did not regard either Cannon, or myself, with any feeling of cordiality. We were soon after joined by Mrs H--, who met us in a more friendly manner than her husband; and yet she, too, seemed acting under some restraint. While Cannon engaged the attention of Mr and Mrs H--, I had a few words with Jessie. She requested me to call, and see them again; but, not liking the manner in which her father had received me, I declined making a promise. To my surprise--and a little to my regret--she insisted upon it; and appointed the next morning, at eleven o'clock--when she and her mother would be alone. "I am very unhappy, Rowland," muttered she, in an undertone. "I seldom see anyone whom I care for. Do come, and see us to-morrow. Will you promise?" I could not be so rude--might I say cruel--as to refuse. Our stay was not prolonged. Before we came away, Mrs H--also invited us to call again; but I noticed that this invitation, when given, was not intended to be heard by her husband. "Little Rose is at school," said she, "and you must come to see her. She is always talking of you. When she hears that you are in London, she will be wild to see you." After our departure, my companion, who already knew my address, gave me his; and we separated, under a mutual agreement to meet soon again. There was much, in what had just transpired, that I could not comprehend. Why had Cannon not told me that Mr H--and his family were in London, before taking me to see them? Why had he pretended that he was going to introduce me to some of his London friends? I could answer these questions only by supposing, that he believed I would not have accompanied him, had I known on whom we were about to call. He might well have believed this--remembering the unceremonious manner in which I had parted from his friends, at the time we visited them on the Yarra Yarra. But why should he wish me to visit them again--if he thought that I had no desire to do so? This was a question for which I could find no reasonable answer. I felt certain he must have acted from some motive, but what it was, I could not surmise. Perhaps I should learn something about it next day, during the visit I had promised to make to Jessie. She was artless and confiding; so much so, that I felt certain she would tell me all that had taken place, since that painful parting on the banks of the Yarra Yarra. Long after leaving the house in Saint John's Wood, I found occupation for my thoughts. I was the victim of reflections, both varied and vexatious.