"I thought, as he was an intimate friend of your uncle, I had better prepare you for his visit," said Mr. Warde. "I feared you would be agitated if he came in without being announced." "Must I see him?" asked Margaret, as soon as she could utter a word. "Certainly not, if you feel the effort would be too great," said Mr. Warde. "He seemed very anxious to pay his respects to you, before leaving the place. I understand it is his intention to go abroad for some years: and I suppose having met you frequently at your uncle's, he did not wish to quit the country without taking leave of you. But do not, on any account, exert yourself. I will take him a message, if you feel in the least degree unequal to seeing him." Margaret laid her hand on Mr. Warde's arm as if to detain him. Everything seemed whirling round; she could not hear distinctly his last words; there was a noise and giddiness in her brain. Going abroad! So then all was over; he was as determined as herself to cancel their engagement. She should have liked a little reluctance, a little hesitation; perhaps a little entreaty. But this was well. She could be proud now--no weakness. "Is he here?" she asked Mr. Warde. "Yes, waiting in my study." "Then let him come directly," said she, "directly; because I am not in a mood for tears now; and because I could not answer for myself half an hour hence." Mr. Warde pressed her hand, and went out in search of Mr. Haveloc. Margaret heard his step with a sickening at the heart that she could not control: he came in--bowed, took a seat at some distance; then started up, brought his chair closer, and sat down beside her. They were both silent, Margaret struggling with her tears. Mr. Haveloc looking on the ground, perfectly uncertain how to begin. But after a short pause, during which she clasped more tightly the arm of her chair, Margaret forced back her tears, and said in a low tone: "We have both lost so much, and so lately, Mr. Haveloc, that we do not find it easy to allude to it." She had never seen him look so pale, or so wretched, and she felt that she forgave him everything, though she struggled very hard against the feeling. Unconsciously her voice took a softer tone, and her countenance depicted the compassion she felt. But her companion, quite as much offended as grieved, by her rejection, had not the skill to read these signs of a softened resolution. "I did not intrude upon you with that intention," he said. "I had something to explain to you which is a source of great distress to me, but for which I can find no remedy." Margaret bent forward with much anxiety, Mr. Haveloc proceeded with increased coldness.