"I have brought the latest news--I have been abroad since my last visit here." "Abroad again?" "I'll tell you about that presently. If you're not too busy this morning, and I'm not too unwelcome an intruder, I should be glad to inform you how I fared by following your advice." "You are not unwelcome, Maurice, though I cannot say that there is any great amount of pleasure experienced by your visit to me." "Still cold--still unapproachable, after forgiving all the past!" "But not forgetting, Maurice. You bring the past in with you--I hear it in every accent of your voice; all the figures belonging to it start forth like spectres to dismay me." "Your past has no reproaches--what is it to mine?" "A regret is as keen as a reproach." "Ah! you regret the past!--some act in it, perhaps?" said Maurice, with curiosity. "We should scarcely be mortal if we could look back without regrets, I think." "Ah! but what is the keenest--bitterest?" "That is a leading question, as the lawyers say." "Then I'll not press it--I'll speak of my own regrets instead. I regret having followed your advice, Sidney." "We are all liable to err--I meant it for the best." "I called the following evening on Harriet Wesden--I offered her my hand, as an earnest of that affection which only needed her presence to revive again--I asked pardon for my past, and spoke of my atonement in the future. Could I do more?" "No." Sidney was nervously anxious to learn the result, but he merely compressed his lips, and waited for the sequel. He would not ask how this had ended--his pride held back his curiosity. "And she refused me, as you and I might have expected, had we more seriously considered the matter. By George, I shall never forget her fiery eyes, her angry gestures, her contempt, which seemed withering me up--I knew that it was all over with every shadow of hope, then." "A man should never despair." "It would be difficult to help it in the face of that clincher, Sidney. Well, it served me right; I might have expected it; I might have guessed the truth, had I given it a moment's thought; but I put my trust in you, Sidney, and a nice mess I have made of it! Upon my honour, I would rather bear two--say three--of Mr. Gray's sermons, than face Harriet Wesden again." "Still, you should not be sorry at having offered all the reparation in your power." "Well, now I come to think of it, Sidney, I'm not sorry. To confess the real plain truth, I'm glad." "Indeed!" "Because I have made a discovery, and if you're half a Hinchford, you'll profit by the hint. Harriet Wesden loves _you_." Sidney's hands grappled the arms of his chair, in which he half rose, and then set down again. The red blood mounted to his face, even those dreamy eyes flashed fire again--the avowal was too decided and uncompromising not to affect him. "I do not wish to dwell upon this topic."