“Let me go home, lady! Let me go home!” said Anna, drearily. “I will do any thing you say, only let me go home!” “Wait a little, my child; take a glass of wine, it will make you strong. I want to say a few words now.” “I will wait,” said Anna; “but no wine; grandmother will make me some tea when I get home.” “I—I wished to say a word more about my son.” “Well, madam, I will try and listen.” “I have said that it would be his total ruin if——” “If he married me. Yes; I know—I know; please do not say it over again, it kills me.” “I think, Anna Burns, you love him well enough to save him.” “I—I love him well enough for—for almost any thing.” “There is but one thing you can do for him.” Anna lifted her large, questioning eyes to meet those of Mrs. Savage—and that look made speech unnecessary. “Your eyes ask me what it is you can do.” “Yes.” The words fell faintly from those white lips, as they began to quiver again. “Keep out of his way. Leave the place you live in—I will supply the means. Move to some other city. Go into the country; do any thing but see him again.” Again Anna lifted those eyes to the proud woman’s face; and this time the fine, blue eyes of the lady fell under her glance. “Is there no other way?” “None in the world. Listen, child. You are pretty, I admit—lady-like, refined, surpassingly so; but my son has a position to maintain, a career of ambition before him. We have no other child, and have founded high hopes on him. This marriage, if he, indeed, thinks of it, would destroy them all. His father never would be brought to sanction it; he never would recognize you. As for me, I should forgive him, perhaps, but you, never!” “It will not happen, lady. I shall never need your forgiveness. You did not know that Mr. Savage had thought better of it already—that he does not speak to me in the street. That——” Anna stopped, for a quick rush of tears was choking her. “Indeed! Is this true?” “Indeed, indeed it is, lady!” “And what is the reason?” “Perhaps he is obeying your command, lady?” “No, I have never spoken of this—never heard of it till this morning.” “Then he must have been angry with me about——” “Well, about what?” “About Mr. Ward.” “Mr. Ward—what of him? Is it the Ward I know—the great friend of young Gould?” “I—I think so. He has been cruel to me; he would come to live in the house.” “Live in the same house with you?” “Yes, he would do it. We did not know about it at the time. Then he contrived to meet me on the stairs, and follow me into the street. Mr. Savage saw him there one day. It was then he did not speak to me. But I was not to blame. Oh, lady! pity me a little; for since then, I have been so miserable.”