When Mrs. Tracy entered the drawing-room she found her daughter lying back in her chair, with her handkerchief pressed to her eyes. Millicent let her approach without uncovering her face, or taking any notice, and the anxiety of the mother grew into alarm as she drew near. She had said ‘Well?’ with expectation and interest as she came in, feeling very sure of the tale there must be to tell. But as she came nearer and saw that Millicent did not move, Mrs. Tracy got very much frightened. ‘Good heavens, Millicent! do you mean to say it has come to nothing?’ she cried sharply, with keen anxiety. But Millicent was by no means prepared to answer. She had been shaken by this totally unexpected, unlikely sort of interview. It had gone to her heart, though she had not been very sure whether she had a heart; and she did not know now how to explain, or what to say. ‘Has it come to nothing?’ Mrs. Tracy repeated, coming up and shaking her daughter by the shoulder. ‘Millicent! are not you ashamed of yourself? What have you been doing? I know he has only just left you, for I heard him rush down-stairs.’ ‘It has come to a great deal,’ said Millicent, uncovering her flushed and tear-stained cheeks. ‘Don’t worry me, mamma. I will tell you everything if you will but let me alone.’ ‘Everything!’ said Mrs. Tracy in an excited tone. ‘Yes, everything; but it is nothing,’ said Millicent, doggedly. ‘You must not give yourself any hopes. It is all over. It will never come to more; but you shall not say a word,’ she added, with indignation. ‘I tell you I am fond of him. I will not have anything said. He is too good for you or me.’ ‘It will never come to more!’ echoed Mrs. Tracy, holding up her hands in amaze and appeal to heaven. ‘And she dares to look me in the face and say so! Six months lost,--and rent, and firing, and the bills!’ cried the injured mother. Then she threw herself down in a chair, and moaned, and rocked herself. ‘If it is to come to nothing!’ she said. ‘Oh, you ungrateful, unkind girl! oh, my poor Fitzgerald!--perhaps you’ll tell me what we are to do.’ A little pause ensued. The disappointment was too sharp and bitter to be kept within the bounds of politeness, and Millicent was not prepared to enter into full explanations. While Mrs. Tracy vented her disappointment in reproaches, her daughter sat flushed, tearful, motionless, dreaming over the scene that had passed, wondering within herself whether anything could, anything would come of it after all,--neither hearing nor listening to her mother,--half ashamed of herself, and yet not come to an end of expectation still. ‘He will do something, whatever it is,’ she said to herself. ‘It has not ended here.’