’I know, I know, child,’ said Nancy, whose face had an eager look. ’But I’ve been virtue, prudence itself, Ally, and never set foot in the sacred precincts myself. Now ’tis dusk nearly, and no one about. You know my romantic nature. I would see with my own eyes the shrine of genius. Come, love, be generous to your friend!’ And they dawdled some minutes in the wretched, grimy square,—Nancy, holding her muff to her face, but peering up at the windows of the houses. Alison did not know that a foolish pen had written that morning: ’_I am promised to be in your square this afternoon, and if your window be to the street, shall have the pleasure of giving you a nod._’ Nor did she hear the poet’s lively rejoinder of the next day: ’_You don’t know the proper storey for a poet’s lodging, Clarinda! Why didn’t you look higher?_’ And then, coming out of the square, in the very neck of it, whom should they run against but Herries himself. ’This is an odd hour and place for you ladies to be walking alone,’ said he. And Alison saw how his eyes narrowed with suspicion, and his lips set themselves in their most obstinate folds. But Nancy was inimitable in self-possession and unconcern; said something about a visit to a clockmaker in the square, and then talked of the weather. Alison, poor Alison, had felt the shock so, that her very heart jumped. Then followed the sickly sensation, so horribly novel to her young strength, of a feeling of faintness. She knew that her very lips grew white, as she stood there listening to Nancy’s prattle. How foolish it was ... but, oh, would Nancy _never_ go! At last she nodded a lively good-night to her relative, and they separated. ’La, child!’ Nancy exclaimed, as they scurried home, ’that was a queer mischance! And did you see how mighty odd my gentleman looked at us? He knows, all the world knows, Burns lodges in the square. But I think I put him off the scent; he knows my big wag-at-the-wall clock comes from Jamieson’s, and that’s in the square too.... But, Ally, what made you turn so white? Are you not well, love? Sure I’m sorry you had a qualm; ’tis horrid, vapourish weather just now, but could anything on earth have been more opportune? For now, if Archie takes it into his head that either of us has a sentimental interest in the square, it must be you!’ She laughed her little soft, thrilling laugh, and tripped gaily along beside her silent companion. ’But I don’t think,’ she added presently,’ that he saw anything. It was too dark.’ That night Alison had a nightmare. She dreamt that she walked somewhere, but there was a chain about her feet; and ever, as she tried to hurry on, the chain tightened, bruising her ankles, cutting even into the flesh. On some height beyond her stood a figure. Its face was hidden, but she knew that it was Herries. Then Alison awoke, and found that she was crying. *CHAPTER XXII.*