At nine o'clock I heard a ring at the bell, and then his step in the hall. He was slower than usual in coming in; everything made me feel confused and apprehensive. When he opened the door and entered, I was trying to command myself, but I forgot all about myself when I saw _him_. His face was white, and he looked haggard and harassed, as if he had gone through a year of suffering since last night, when I left him with the lamp and cigar in the library. I started up and put out my hand. "What is it, Richard? You are in some trouble." He said no, and tried to speak in an ordinary tone, sitting down on the sofa by my chair. I was confused and thrown back by this, and tried to talk as if nothing had been said. "Will you have a cup of tea?" I asked; "Ann has just taken it away." He said absently, yes, and I rang for Ann to bring the tea, and then went to the table to pour it out. He sat with his face leaning on his hand on the arm of the sofa, and did not seem to notice me till I carried the cup to him, and offered it. Then he started, and looked up and took it, asking my pardon, and thanking me. "Are you not going to have one yourself?" he said, half rising. "No, I don't want any to-night. Tell me if yours is right." "Yes, it is very nice," he said absently, drinking some. Then rising suddenly, he put the cup on the mantleshelf, and said to me, "Send Ann away, I want to talk to you." I told Ann I would ring for her when I wanted her, and sat down by the lamp again, with many apprehensions. "You asked me if anything had happened, Pauline, didn't you?" he said. "No," I answered. "But I was sure that something had, from the way you looked when you came in." "It is something that--that changes things very much for you, Pauline," he resumed, with an effort, "and makes all our arrangements unnecessary--that is, unless you choose." I looked amazed and frightened, and he went on. "I made a discovery last night in the library. The will is found, Pauline." I started to my feet, with my hands pressed against my heart, waiting breathlessly for his next word. "Everything is left to you--and I have come to tell you, you are free--if you desire to be." "Oh, thank God! Thank God!" I cried; then covering my face with my hands, sank back into my seat, and burst into tears. He turned from me and walked to the other end of the room; each of us lived much in that little time. For myself, I had accepted my bondage so meekly, so dutifully, that I did not know the weight it had been upon me till it was suddenly taken off. I did not think of him--I could only think, there was no next Wednesday, and I could stay where I was. It was like the sudden cessation of dreadful and long-continued pain: it was Heaven. I was crying for joy. But at last the reaction came, and I had to think of him.