A strange fear beset Harriet--a fear of answering before the whirl of events had given her time to consider. She had never seriously thought of pledging herself to him; though her woman's quickness had guessed at his secret long since, she had never dreamed of him or felt her heart beat for him, as for that first love who had won her girl's fancy, and then faded away like a dream-figure. She was agitated from the preceding events of that night, and now, in an unlucky moment, he added to her embarrassment and made her brain whirl--she was scarcely herself, and did not answer like herself. "Let go my hand, sir--let me go home--I don't want to hear any more!" "Very well," he answered; and was silent the rest of the way home--leaving her without a word in the shop, and passing through that side door reserved for the Hinchfords for the last thirteen years. Harriet, trembling and excited, almost stumbled into the back parlour, and began to sob forth a part of the adventures of that evening. Sidney, like the ghost of himself, stalked into the first-floor front, where his father was keeping a late tea for him. The anxious eyes of the father glanced from under the bushy white brows; he was a student of human nature, so far as his son was concerned at least. "Anything wrong, Sid?" "N--no," was the hesitative answer. "You look troubled." "I'm tired--dead beat." "Let us get on with the tea, then," he said assuming a cheery voice; "here's the _Times_, Sid." "I have read it," was the hollow answer. "Oh! I haven't--any news?" "Tea gone up with a rush, I believe." "Ah! good for the firm, I hope." "Believe so--don't know. Phew! how infernally hot this room gets!" Mr. Hinchford hazarded no more remarks--the curt replies of his son were sufficient indication of a reluctance to attend to him. He set out the tea-table, and superintended the duties thereof in a grave, fatherly manner, glancing askance at his son over the rim of his tea-cup. Sidney was in a mood that troubled the sire--for it was an unusual mood, and suggested something very much out of the way. After tea, Sidney would compose himself and relate what had happened in the City to disturb him, and led him to respond churlishly to the old father, who had never given him a cross word in his life. He would wait Sidney's good time--there was no good hurrying the lad.