"They must settle it between them," she muttered to herself as she did so. "After what he told me, I ain't afeard of him! And very fortunate it is, to be sure, that he should be thinking of another, or else he'd be sartain to fall in love with Miss Minnie, and _that_ wouldn't do!" And, consoling herself in her error, she trotted down the passage after Sylvia. "Gillett--Mrs. Gillett!" cried Minnie, flying across the room to the closing door; "let me out!" But the door was locked in an instant. Sylvia had turned away, and Gillett followed, blessing herself for the clever manner in which she met poor Miles's wishes (for she really liked him,) without actually compromising herself by arranging a meeting. Minnie turned, and was going out by the window, as she had entered, wondering much at the housekeeper's strange behaviour, when, in turning, she beheld Miles. She started back, uttering a half scream. "Pray, do not be alarmed, Miss Dalzell," he said, advancing courteously--"'tis I, Miles Tremenhere, here, and with Mrs. Gillett's consent; may I speak a word to you?" "_You_ here, Mr. Tremenhere--and with Mrs. Gillett's connivance?" "I here, Miss Dalzell--you may indeed be amazed; but pray, pardon my audacity, but I have something to tell you, for which reason I am here. May I act most unceremoniously in your own house, and offer you a chair?" She bowed as he did so, and seated herself, though in much perplexity of thought. "I would speak to you," he said seriously, standing beside her, "of one you take an interest in." "Mary Burns!" she cried. "Oh! pray be seated, and tell me of her. I went to the cottage at six this morning, but it was vacant." "Did you, indeed!" he exclaimed, gazing in deep admiration upon the lovely face raised to his in confidence and innocence. "I wish I had divined that; how very good you are, Miss Dalzell!--this will much gratify poor Mary, she is so crushed and bowed down." "Oh! do not say I am good; 'tis a sacred duty we owe a distressed fellow creature. We should not trample upon the fallen, lest they rise against us, and themselves in bitterness: where is she, Mr. Tremenhere?" But Tremenhere's thoughts had changed their current; might he not be pardoned for seeking a motive to interest in his fate that young heart? Within the last half hour he had been searching the haunts of memory, and she had given him back a sunny day, ten long years gone by. "It is a great tax on a memory so young as yours, Miss Dalzell," he said, without having even heard her question, "to ask it to look back ten years; can you recall the time when you were seven years of age?"