“Thank you,” was my abrupt but grateful rejoinder; and, obeying her silent gesture, I opened the door of the sitting-room and passed in. A gentleman standing at one of the windows turned quickly at the sound of my step and came forward. Instantly whatever doubt I may have felt concerning the nature of the work about to be proposed to me yielded to the certainty that, however much it might involve of the strange and difficult, the man whose mission it was to seek my aid was one to inspire confidence and respect. He was also a handsome man, or no, I will not go so far as that; he was only one in whom the lines of form and visage were fine enough not to interfere with the impression made by his strong nature and intense vitality. A man to sway women and also quite capable of moving men (this was evident at a glance); but a man under a cloud just at present,--a very heavy cloud which both irked and perplexed him. Pausing in the middle of the room, he surveyed me closely for an instant before speaking. Did I impress him as favorably as he did me? I soon had reason to think so, for the nervous trembling of his hands ceased after the first moment or two of silent scrutiny, and I was sure I caught the note of hope in his voice as he courteously remarked: “You are seeking a place, young lady. Do you think you can fill the one I have to offer? It has its difficulties, but it is not an onerous one. It is that of companion to my wife.” I bowed; possibly I smiled. I do smile sometimes when a ray of real sunshine darts across my pathway. “I should be very glad to try such a situation,” I replied. A look of relief, so vivid that it startled me, altered at once the whole character of his countenance; and perceiving how intense was the power and fascination underlying his quiet exterior, I asked myself who and what this man was; no ordinary personage, I was sure, but who? Had Miss Davies purposely withheld his name? I began to think so. “I have had some experience,” I was proceeding-- But he waved this consideration aside, with a change back to his former gloomy aspect, and a careful glance at the door which did not escape me. “It is not experience which is so much needed as discretion.” Again that word. “The case is not a common one, or, rather,”--he caught himself up quickly, “the circumstances are not. My wife is well, but--she is not happy. She is very unhappy, deeply, unaccountably so, and I do not know why.” Anxious to watch the effect of these words, he paused a moment, then added fervently: “Would to God I did! It would make a new man of me.” The meaning, the deep meaning in his tone, if not in the adjuration itself, was undeniable; but my old habit of self-control stood me in good stead and I remained silent and watchful, weighing every look and word.