Clemency complied briskly; but observed as she did so, that he would only have his walk for his pains, that it was all his fancy, and so forth. Mr. Britain said ‘very likely;’ but sallied out, nevertheless, armed with the poker, and casting the light of the lantern far and near in all directions. ‘It’s as quiet as a churchyard,’ said Clemency, looking after him; ‘and almost as ghostly too!’ Glancing back into the kitchen, she cried fearfully, as a light figure stole into her view, ‘What’s that!’ ‘Hush!’ said Marion in an agitated whisper. ‘You have always loved me, have you not!’ ‘Loved you, child! You may be sure I have.’ ‘I am sure. And I may trust you, may I not? There is no one else just now, in whom I _can_ trust.’ ‘Yes,’ said Clemency, with all her heart. ‘There is some one out there,’ pointing to the door, ‘whom I must see, and speak with, to-night. Michael Warden, for God’s sake retire! Not now!’ Clemency started with surprise and trouble as, following the direction of the speaker’s eyes, she saw a dark figure standing in the doorway. ‘In another moment you may be discovered,’ said Marion. ‘Not now! Wait, if you can, in some concealment. I will come presently.’ He waved his hand to her, and was gone. ‘Don’t go to bed. Wait here for me!’ said Marion, hurriedly. ‘I have been seeking to speak to you for an hour past. Oh, be true to me!’ Eagerly seizing her bewildered hand, and pressing it with both her own to her breast—an action more expressive, in its passion of entreaty, than the most eloquent appeal in words,—Marion withdrew; as the light of the returning lantern flashed into the room. ‘All still and peaceable. Nobody there. Fancy, I suppose,’ said Mr. Britain, as he locked and barred the door. ‘One of the effects of having a lively imagination. Halloa! Why, what’s the matter?’ Clemency, who could not conceal the effects of her surprise and concern, was sitting in a chair: pale, and trembling from head to foot. ‘Matter!’ she repeated, chafing her hands and elbows, nervously, and looking anywhere but at him. ‘That’s good in you, Britain, that is! After going and frightening one out of one’s life with noises and lanterns, and I don’t know what all. Matter! Oh, yes!’ ‘If you’re frightened out of your life by a lantern, Clemmy,’ said Mr. Britain, composedly blowing it out and hanging it up again, ‘that apparition’s very soon got rid of. But you’re as bold as brass in general,’ he said, stopping to observe her; ‘and were, after the noise and the lantern too. What have you taken into your head? Not an idea, eh?’ But, as Clemency bade him good night very much after her usual fashion, and began to bustle about with a show of going to bed herself immediately, Little Britain, after giving utterance to the original remark that it was impossible to account for a woman’s whims, bade her good night in return, and taking up his candle strolled drowsily away to bed. When all was quiet, Marion returned.