But Peyton, deep in his own preoccupation, neither deduced aught from the drift of her remarks nor saw the tender glances which attended them. While he was making some insignificant answer, the maid, in moving the candelabrum on the spinet, accidentally brushed therefrom his hat, which had been lying on it. She picked it up, in great confusion, and asked his pardon. "'Twas my fault in laying it there," said he, receiving it from her. "I'm careless with my things. I make no doubt, since I've been here, I've more than once given your mistress cause to wish me elsewhere." "La, sir," said Molly, "I don't think--_any_ one would wish you elsewhere!" Whereupon she left the room, abashed at her own audacity. "The devil!" thought Peyton. "I should feel better if some one did wish me elsewhere." As he continued gazing into the fire, and his task loomed more and more disagreeably before him, he suddenly bethought him that Elizabeth, in taking her evening walk, showed no disposition for a private meeting. Dwelling on that one circumstance, he thought for awhile he might have been wrong in supposing she loved him. But then the previous night's incident recurred to his mind. Nothing short of love could have induced such solicitude. But, then, as she sought no last interview, might he not be warranted in going away and leaving the disclosure to come gradually, implied by the absence of further word from him? Yet, she might be purposely avoiding the appearance of seeking an interview. The reasons calling for a prompt confession came back to him. While he was wavering between one dictate and another, in came Mr. Valentine, with a tobacco pipe.