I could not smile in return; and the morning passed away very heavily till shortly after noon, when Mr. Stringer and his sons returned. They had a great deal to tell of the marvels they had seen, and of the enjoyments of their tour, and I was congratulated warmly by my worthy host on my recovery. In the course of the afternoon, when the whole family were present, Bessy Davenport glided in, pale, and evidently suffering. To any not very watchful eye no difference would have been perceived in her conduct towards me; but to mine there was a very great difference indeed. She shook hands with me kindly, nay, warmly; but a deep sigh, almost like a gasp for breath, accompanied the simple mark of good will. During the evening her eyes never met mine; when I spoke to her, she answered without raising them, and I became exceedingly uneasy. What could be the cause of such a change? I had done nothing, I had said nothing, that could give her the slightest cause for offence. Could that wretched man have written something in the papers which he sent to poison her mind against me? I could not believe it; and yet, in the folly of agitated passion, I almost wished I had shot him dead on the spot when he had stood before me, instead of sparing his miserable life to be the bane of mine. I resolved, however, to have a clear and full explanation. Candour and straitforwardness are nowhere so necessary as in love. A moment or two after Bessy had retired for the night, I went up into my own room, telling one of the servants I met in the hall to send my servant up to me. I then sat down and wrote to Bessy, saying:-- "You cannot be ignorant, dearest Bessy, of my feelings towards you; and I have flattered myself--perhaps vainly, perhaps foolishly--that they were returned. Since last night great changes have come over me; your sadness has infinitely distressed me, and I would fain share your sorrow. But your manner towards me has agitated and alarmed me. I have in vain sought for an opportunity of speaking with you in private to-day. Do not deny it to me to-morrow. "By all the many memories that are between us of the last two months, I adjure you deny me not this favour, nor leave me in uncertainty, which is terrible to me." "There, go to Miss Davenport's door," I said, giving the note to Zed; "knock, and wait for an answer." Of course, his absence seemed long; but at length he returned, bringing me a few words written with a pencil on a little scrap of paper. They ran thus:-- "DEAREST RICHARD,--You shall have what you desire. I will _find_ an opportunity to-morrow; but do not try to force one. I grieve to have given you pain, and shall always grieve to do so." Then came some words which had been carefully scratched out with the pencil. They seemed to me to have been--"But I _must_ do it!" And then she went on:--