He made another appeal, but she seemed to be absolute, to master him, and at last, trembling, white with passion and disappointment, he turned and left the room, shrinking from that stern, pointing finger, and half-staggering down the stairs. I heard him hurry across the hall, and the door closed so loudly that the house seemed to be filled with echoes, while his steps were perfectly audible as he strode along the street. CHAPTER FORTY FOUR. I AM FORGIVEN. "Oh, Miss Carr," I cried at last, as I broke the painful silence, "what have I done?" She did not answer for some moments. Then, leading me to the couch, she threw off her opera-cloak, and sat looking at me for a few moments before passing her hand across my forehead to brush aside the hair, and kissing me on the brow. "What have you done, Antony? Shown me that I was not mistaken in you when I thought you all that was honest and true." I could not speak; only sat gazing at her face as she fought hard to conquer her agitation. "Ring the bell, Antony," she said at last. "You must bear with me to-night, and not be disappointed. Do not let James enter the room, but meet him on the landing, and say that I shall not want the carriage." I hastened to obey her, and then I returned, to stand before her, anxious and sick at heart; but she pointed to the seat at her side. "Antony," she said, after some time had elapsed, "why did you not tell me this--this piteous story at once? Was I not worthy of your confidence?" "Yes, yes," I said; "but how could I tell you? I dared not." "Dared not?" "I felt that it would be so cowardly and mean to tell tales of Mr Lister, and I hoped that you might find out yourself that he was not so good a man as you thought." She drew a long, deep breath. "But you might have caused me the deepest misery, Antony," she said. "But what could I do?" I cried passionately. "I wanted to tell you, and then I felt that I could not; and I talked to Mr Hallett about it, and he said, too, that I could not speak." "You must tell me now, Antony," she said, as she turned away her face. "Tell me all." I drew a breath full of relief, and proceeded to tell her all, referring to Linny's first adventure and Revitts' injuries, and going on to all I knew of Linny's elopement, to the end. "But, Antony," she exclaimed, as I finished, and she now turned her face towards mine, "can this be true? Is it certain that it was Mr Lister?" "Yes," I said; "certain. His letters to poor Linny show all that; and she talks about him in her delirium, poor girl!" "I cannot believe it of him," she said; "and yet--How long is it since your friend was hurt?" I told her the very night, from my pocket-book. "His hands were injured from a struggle, he told me, with some drunken man," she said half to herself. Then aloud, "Antony, did you see either of these letters?"