"Oh! no—no," exclaimed the good-natured housekeeper; "do not entertain such an idea! Not for worlds would I have you labour under such an error. You know I would not tell a falsehood; and I declare most solemnly that you have totally misunderstood me and my motives." There was an earnestness in the way in which Mrs. Kenrick spoke that immediately removed from Katherine's mind the suspicion she had entertained. "Why should you send the poor girl away, Mrs. Kenrick?" said the footman, now suddenly emerging from the pantry, which joined the kitchen. "Have you overheard our conversation, then, Thomas?" exclaimed Mrs. Kenrick, angrily. "I couldn't very well avoid it," answered the footman, "since I was in there all the time." "It would have been more discreet on your part to have let us know that you were there, when you heard a private conversation begin," remarked the housekeeper. "How should I know the conversation was private?" exclaimed Thomas. "I suppose you're jealous of the girl, and want to get rid of her." "You must value your place very little by speaking to me in this way," said Mrs. Kenrick. "However, I scorn your base allusions. And you, my dear," she continued, now addressing herself to Katherine, "look upon me as your friend—your very sincere friend. What I am doing is for your good: to-day I will write to my sister—and to-morrow you shall, proceed to her abode." The housekeeper then resumed her avocations with the complacency of one conscious of having performed a duty. "Thomas," she said, after a pause, "go up and inquire if your master will have breakfast served in his own chamber, or in the parlour." The footman hastened to obey this order. "Master says he is very unwell, and desires no breakfast at all," was the information which the man gave on his return to the kitchen. The housekeeper made no reply: she was however pleased when she reflected that the rector felt his situation—a state of mind which she hoped would lead to complete repentance and reform. The morning passed: the afternoon arrived: and still Reginald Tracy kept his room. The housekeeper sent the footman up to ask if he required any thing. Thomas returned with a negative answer, adding "Master spoke to me without opening the door, and seemed by his tone of voice to be very unwell." Again the housekeeper remained silent, more convinced than before that contrition was working its good effects with her master. Hour after hour passed; the sun went down; and darkness once more drew its veil over the mighty city. Mrs. Kenrick again sent up Thomas with the same inquiry as before. The servant returned to the kitchen with a letter in his hand. "This time master opened the door," he said; "and gave me this letter to take up to Mr. Markham at Holloway. But I shall take the omnibus there and back." Thomas then departed to execute his commission. Shortly after he was gone, the bell of the rector's room rang. Mrs. Kenrick hastened to answer it.