"The explanation is then, that you have proved unworthy of our friendship. There is no explanation that _you_ can give, that will remove the impression from my mind that you have been guilty of ingratitude and dishonesty towards those who were your best friends; and I do not wish to be pained by listening to any attempt you may make at an apology." I became excited. Had the speaker been a man, my excitement would have assumed the shape of anger. "I only ask," I replied, endeavouring, as much as possible, to control my feelings, "I only ask, what justice to you, as well as myself, demands you to give. All I require is an explanation; and I will not leave the house, until I have had it. I insist upon knowing of what I am accused." Mrs Hyland, apparently in high displeasure at the tone I had assumed, turned suddenly away from me, and glided out of the room. To calm my excitement, I took up a paper, and read, or attempted to read. For nearly half an hour I continued this half involuntary occupation. At the end of that time, I stepped up to the fire-place, caught hold of the bell pull, and rang the bell. "Tell Miss Lenore," said I, when the servant made her appearance, "that I wish to see her; and that all the policemen in Liverpool cannot put me out of this house, until I have done so." The girl flounced back through the door; and shortly after Lenore, with half of a smile on her beautiful face, entered the room. She appeared less reserved than on the interview of the day before; and, if possible, more lovely. I was too happy to interpret from her deportment, that she had not yet entirely forgotten the past; and that what I now wished to know, she would not hesitate to reveal. "Lenore," said I, as she entered, "in you I hope still to find a friend--notwithstanding the coldness with which you have treated me; and from you I demand an explanation." "The only explanation I can give," said she, "is, that mamma and I have probably been deceived. There is one who has accused you of ingratitude, and other crimes as bad--perhaps worse." "Adkins!" I exclaimed. "It is Adkins, the first mate of the `Lenore!'" "Yes, it is he who has brought the accusation; and, unfortunately, whether false or no, your conduct has been some evidence of the truth of the story he has told us. Oh! Rowland, it was hard to believe you guilty of ingratitude and crime; but your long absence, unexplained as it was, gave colour to what has been alleged against you. You have never written to us: and it will be nearly impossible for you to be again reinstated in the good opinion of my mother." "In yours, Lenore?" She blushingly held down her head, without making reply. "Will you tell me of what I am accused?" I asked.