Mattie and Mr. Wesden entered the house. Harriet was in the front parlour--the best room, which had been Mrs. Wesden's pride, and a dream of the old lady's in business days,--working busily away at a pair of crimson slippers, with large black crosses on the instep--High Church slippers, every inch of them. Not slippers for a simpering curate to receive anonymously, as a mark of esteem from a fair unknown--Harriet was above that; but good colossal slippers, for the gouty feet of her pastor and master, who could not wear tight boots in the house, and had even been known to preach in something easy. Harriet, who had noted the arrival, was ready to receive Mattie. She ran to her and kissed her. Harriet's first impulse was a kind and loving one whenever she met Mattie first; only as the interview lengthened, did her doubts--if they could be called doubts--step in and range themselves formally beside her, and render her almost reserved. The kiss with which they parted, always savoured more of the new Harriet, than of the bright-faced beauty whom Sidney had _once_ loved, Mattie thought. "Harriet, I want you to come with me, if you will," said Mattie. "I am rather busy just now, Mattie," said Harriet; "where do you wish to take me?" "To see Sidney Hinchford," was the calm reply. "To see _whom_!" ejaculated Harriet. Before Mattie could explain, Harriet added-- "What object can you have in taking me to him?--in coming in this strange hurried manner for me? Has _he_ sent you?" "No." "He has no wish that I should be near him, I am sure. This is eccentric and foolish--what do you mean by it?" Harriet's haughty gesture would have done more credit to royal blood than to old Wesden's. Mattie caught her by the wrist, so that Harriet should not escape her, or hide any sign of emotion which she might wish to conceal when all was known. "You must come! There is no excuse. In a few hours Sidney Hinchford may be dead!" Did the change upon that face tell all, or was it the natural result of such news as Mattie had hissed forth? "Dead!--dead did you say?" asked Harriet, hastily. "I did not tell your father a few nights ago that Sidney had left us--I reserved the news for you, and then missed you going home. He is in the hands of clever and scientific men, who hope to cure him of his blindness." "Yes--go on." "But there is a chance of failure, which Sidney risks, and thinks, perhaps, too lightly of. That failure will not subject him to his old estate, but drive him mad, or kill him." "And you have let him risk his life--_you_!"