I hesitated for a moment, and then went in unheard over the soft thick carpet, and kneeling down, I took the inert hand hanging down, and kissed it. In a moment she stood up with pale and angry face, flinging me off as if I had stung her. "Oh, Antony, my boy; is it you?" she cried; and flinging her arms round me, she let her head fall upon my shoulder, and went passionately and long, while I tried to utter some feeble platitude to soothe her. The storm passed off suddenly, and she wiped her swollen eyes. "I had forgotten that you were there, Antony," she said. "I have had a great trouble." She spoke with her face averted, and she was trying now to remove the traces of her tears. "You could not hear what was said?" she asked. "Yes, Miss Carr. I did not wish to, but I heard every word." "Oh!" She turned her wild eyes upon me, and her pale face flushed crimson as she rose to leave the room, hurrying away and leaving me wondering whether I ought to go. I had just concluded that I ought, and, taking up a sheet of paper, I had written a few lines saying how very sorry I was that I had been an unwilling listener, when she came back with her hair re-arranged, and looking pale and calm. "Were you writing to me, Antony?" she said. "Yes, Miss Carr." "Let me see." She read that which I had written, and smiled sadly. Then, tearing up the note, she took my hand and led me once more to the couch. "I am sorry that you heard what passed, Antony," she said; "but since I have known you, I have gradually grown to look upon you as a friend as well as a _protege_; you have told me your little history, and every time I have seen you, you have shown me the fruit of the teachings of those to whom you were very dear. I feel quite happy in knowing that you, as the son of a gentleman, Antony, will hold all that you have heard quite sacred." "If you will only believe in and trust me," I cried. "I do believe in and trust you, Antony," she said warmly. "Now I am going to ask you to leave me, and come again to-morrow, after you have been to the engineer's office. I am not well, and I should be glad to be alone." I rose, and as she held out her hand I took it and kissed it reverently--so reverently, that she drew me to her, and touched my forehead with her lips. "Go now, Antony," she said, "and I think it will be better that you should not return to the printing-office. I will arrange with Mr Ruddle about that. A letter from me will be sufficient. And look here, Antony: you will come here to me every Saturday, and Sunday too, if you like. You need stand upon no ceremony--tut come. You will not be sorry to leave the office?" "Oh no," I said; "but I shall regret leaving Mr Hallett." I thought it was fancy then, as I seemed to see a spasm shoot through her. She said no more to me, but pressed something into my hand, and I went downstairs.