"I make no hasty promises," said Mattie, with a faint smile. "Well, there will be time to talk of that idea," said Maurice, laughing; "and, talking about time, how I have been absorbing yours, to be sure! Still time is well wasted when it is employed for others' happiness--your father could offer no objection to that sentiment. You are on my side?" "On Sidney's, if he think of Harriet Wesden still." "If--why, haven't I proved it?--did you not say that you believed every word?" "No, I did not say that. It--it _is_ true, perhaps--I shall know better presently. Sir, I will find out the truth." "It will be easy for an acute woman to discover the truth both in Sidney and Harriet; for the truth--for the better days, we are all waiting. Good-bye." "Good-bye, sir; that promise to give me warning of the day which will be life or death to Sidney--you will not forget?" "I never forget, Miss Gray. Rely upon me." Maurice Hinchford departed, full of his hope, dreaming not of the despair that he had left behind in the heart of that simple-minded woman. He had intended all for the best; he had known nothing of Sidney's proposal to Mattie; he had relied on Mattie's sisterly affection for the man and woman in whose happiness he was deeply interested. He went on his way rejoicing--proud of the new volunteer he had enlisted in his cause, and sanguine as to a result which should bring peace to every one. Mattie sat behind the counter in her old position after Maurice Hinchford had left her--rigid and motionless. This was the turning-point of her life--the ordeal under which she would harden or utterly give way. A customer entering the shop waited and stared and wondered at the silent figure which faced him and took no heed of his presence--at her who was finally roused to every-day life by his direct appeal to her. Mattie served him, then dropped into her chair again, and the old stony look settled once more upon her face. Fate was before her, and she rebelled against it; the whole truth--hard and cruel--she could not believe in. "It's not true!" her white lips murmured; "it's false, as he is! He has heard from Sidney all that Sidney purposes, and is alarmed for the honour of his family. I see it all now--a plot against me!" But "was it true?" sounded in her ears like a far-off echo, from which she could not escape. It was a desperate struggle, and she was fighting that silent intense battle still when her father returned. Hours ago she had prayed that he might come back soon, and end that weary watch there--suffer her to escape to her own room, and lock the door upon that world upon which the mists were stealing. But when he returned, she did not go away from him; a horror of being alone and giving way like a child kept her at her post there, answering, and inwardly defying, all suspicious questions. "You're very white, Mattie? Has anything happened?" asked her father. "Sidney's cousin has been here. Sidney is well and hopeful."