It seemed to me that my patroness ought to know what people said about Mr Lister, and that if it were true she ought not to marry him. Certainly, at the interview at which I was an unwilling listener, there had appeared to be no probability of the wedding taking place soon, but all the same, Miss Carr had seemed to me terribly cut up, consequent upon the parting with Mr Lister. I was so strange and quiet that afternoon that Miss Carr noticed it, and had just asked me what was the matter when the servant brought up a card and I saw her change colour. "Show him up, Edward," she said quietly; and though I did not see the card I felt sure from her manner that I knew who had come, and I looked up at Miss Carr, expecting to be told to go into the next room, but to my surprise she did not speak, and the next moment Mr Lister came in. "Ah, Miriam!" he exclaimed; "how well--You here, Grace?" "Yes, sir," I said, feeling very much in the way, as I stood where I had risen. "Sit down, Antony," said Miss Carr quietly; and as I obeyed I saw an angry flush cross Mr Lister's countenance. "Will you give me a few minutes in the next room, Miriam dear?" he said in a low voice. "In my last answer to your letters, John," she replied, "I begged that you would not come to see me for a month or two. Why are you here now?" "Why am I here now?" he said in a low, deep voice. "Can you ask me? Because I want to speak to you--particularly--come in the next room." I could not help looking hard at him as he spoke, and thinking about what I had heard concerning his affairs, and as I thought that he was to marry Miss Carr to pay off his debts, a strong feeling of resentment against him made me almost determine to utter some word of warning. "He is so handsome, and has such a way with him," I thought, "that she will do just as he wishes her;" but as the thoughts were in my mind, I was surprised and pleased by finding Miss Carr take quite a firm standing. "You can have nothing more to say to me, John, than has been said already. I have told you that at least six months must elapse before I can consent to what you ask." "Will you come into the next room, or send away that boy?" he said in a low voice, but one which showed that he was fast losing his temper. "No," she said firmly; "and after my last letter I think it cruel of you to press me." "I cannot help whether it is cruel or not," he said, growing white with anger at her opposition, "and you are forcing me to speak before this boy." "I leave that to your common-sense, John," she said calmly, and with no little dignity in her manner. "I don't know that I wish to hide anything from Antony Grace. He knows of our engagement." "Are you mad, Miriam?" he cried, unable to contain himself, and indirectly venting his spleen upon me. "You pick up a poor boy out of the gutter, and you take him and make him your bosom friend and confidant."