He bustled into the back room, and searched nervously in the pockets of coats, waistcoats, and trousers about there. A blank expression settled on his countenance as he drew from the side-pocket of the great coat he had worn yesternight, another letter--the letter which Mattie had demanded, and he thought that he had given her. "God bless me! she's torn up the letter that was given me to post last night!" He made a dash down-stairs, but Mattie had gone, and the double mistake could not be rectified. Mattie had made her final leave-taking by that time. She had gone straight from Mr. Hinchford's apartments into the shop, taking up her position on the street-side of the counter facing Mr. Wesden. "I'm--I'm ready to go now, sir!" "Very well. I--I didn't mean you to go in such a hurry; but as you have looked upon it in that light, why I can't stop you. There's your salary up to the month." He took it from the little back-shelf and laid it on the counter; Mattie hesitated for a moment; her face crimsoned, and there was an impulsive movement to sweep the money to the floor, checked by a second and better thought. "Thank you, sir." The money was dropped into her pocket; she looking steadily at Mr. Wesden meanwhile. "I shall send for my box when I've found a home," she said. "Let the man take it without being watched; some of you might like to know what has become of me, and I don't wish that yet awhile." "Where do you think of going?" "Anywhere I can be trusted," was the unintentional retort. "I am not particular, and I have a hope that God will send a friend to me. I think of going from here to Camberwell to bid one friend good-bye, at least--what do you think, sir?" "You had better not. She's ill." "You never said that before!" cried Mattie; "ill and alone!" "Harriet will return home when she gets up--she is just ill enough to be kept very quiet." "I'll not go to her, then." Mattie still fixed her dark eyes on Mr. Wesden; that steady, unflinching gaze was making the stationer feel uncomfortable. "I don't know that there is anything else to say," said Mattie, after a long pause; "and I suppose--you've nothing else to say to me?" "Nothing. Except," he added, after another pause on his part, "that I hope you will take care of yourself--that this will be a lesson to you." Mattie coloured once more, and took time to reply. "I would part friends with _you_," she said at last. "I have been trying hard to bear everything that you say, remembering past kindness. _You_ saved me at the eleventh hour, when I was going back to ruin--_you_ taught me what was good, and made this place my home; for _you_ and _yours_ I would do anything in the world that lay in my power. BUT!" she cried, her face kindling and her eyes flashing, "if it had been any one else who had spoken to me as you have done, who had cast such cruel slander at me, and believed in nothing but my vileness, I--I think I should have killed him!"