He went away from me to the other end of the room, and threw himself down in a chair. I saw his suffering, but it did not move me. I thought of nothing but my own wrong--a hard, cold, desperate indifference to every one else seemed to come upon me. I saw myself tricked, cheated, despised. Mr. Osborne, Alice, my father, strange and impossible though the conjunction was, I almost thought I saw them all together smiling at me. I could have gnashed my teeth when I thought how conscious every one else was--how miserably blind was I--I could have thrown myself on the floor and dashed my hot brow against the hearth--his hearth--his house--his household sanctuary. But I rejected and hated it--it was not mine. I cannot tell how long I stood thus, he sitting far apart from me saying nothing--it might have been hours--it might have been only moments, I cannot tell. I think it was the falling of some ashes from the fire upon the hearth which roused me; the trivial common sound brought a strange awakening to my misery. I went and rang the bell. As I did so, he looked up at me wistfully. "It is only for some one to show me my room," I said. "May not I do that, Hester?" he asked. I think, perhaps, though it is a strange, ungenerous thing to say so, that had he been less overpowered, less dejected, had he boldly entered upon the subject then, and compelled me to go over it, step by step, I would not have been so bitter against him; but he was disarmed and broken down, less by my reproaches than by his own feeling of guilt. "Thank you, I will prefer a servant," said I, and when the woman came I followed her upstairs. She led me to my own old room, the last room I had left when we went away from Cottiswoode. My first glance at it showed me that it was furnished with the greatest care and elegance, and the door of a little room adjoining, which had been a lumber room in our time, was opened, and from it came a glimpse of firelight; in the bed-chamber, too, there was a fire, and everything in it looked so bright, so pure and cheerful, that I could not glance anywhere without an aggravation of bitterness--to place me here, was like placing a revolted and defying spirit in some peaceful bower of heaven. The servant who conducted me, was a fresh young country woman, five or six years my senior. In the preoccupation of my own thoughts, I scarcely looked at her, but she seemed to linger as if for a recognition; at last she spoke. "I'm Amy Whitehead, please Miss--Madam," she said, confused and blushing, "and my old uncle, ma'am, that was at the Hall afore, he's been waiting, please, ever since we heard the news, to know when you was coming home." "Another time--another time, Amy," said I, hurriedly, half-stifled with the sobs which I could restrain no longer. "Tell him I remember him very well and you too; but I am fatigued and want rest to-night; and tell your master, Amy, that I am about to go to rest, and will not come down stairs again."