Priscilla was really very tired. She slept a good deal during the night, all of which time they had the carriage to themselves. But in the morning some fresh travellers entered their compartment, and Mr Manchuri had no opportunity of saying a word in private to Priscilla until they were on their way to London. When, however, they had crossed the Channel, the first thing he did was to engage a private _coupe_ on the express train, and soon, as they were whirling away towards the great centre of life and commerce, he was once again alone with his young companion. "Now, my dear," he said, "you will just forgive me for asking you a plain question." "I am sure I will, Mr Manchuri," said Priscilla. "You have been most, most kind to me." "We shall arrive in London," said Mr Manchuri, "at five o'clock. Now, may I ask where you intend to go for the night?" "I will send a telegram to my schoolmistress, Mrs Lyttelton, and then take the next train to Hendon," was Priscilla's remark. "But is your schoolmistress at home?" "I do not know; but somebody will be." "Do you want to go back to school in the holidays?" "Not very specially; but I must go, so there is no use talking about it. I felt so bewildered yesterday that I did not send a telegram, as I might have done. But I know the servants can put me up, and it will be all right--and you have been, oh! so kind, Mr Manchuri." "Not at all, my dear Priscilla; not at all. The fact is, I have never enjoyed a journey so much; your company has given me real pleasure. And now what do you say--" "Yes?" interrupted Priscilla. "To coming to me to my house for a few days--even for a night or so-- instead of going back to Hendon?" "To your house, Mr Manchuri?" "Yes, my dear; you will have a hearty welcome there, and I assure you it is quite large enough. I have got excellent servants, who will look after you, and you won't see much of me except in the evening, and then perhaps you will cheer me up a bit; and--and I want to show you what you know, my dear--" Priscilla turned first red and then white. "I have told you why I cannot see that," she said. "That is the subject I want to discuss with you more fully. Will you come back with me to Park Lane, and to-night? I am an old man and lonely, and you, my dear little girl, have stirred something within me which has never been stirred for thirty years, and which I thought was quite dead. You won't refuse me, will you? That, indeed, would be a sin. That would be putting a heart back once more into its grave." Priscilla was startled at the words, and still more at the expression in the old face; there was such a hungry, pleading look in the eyes. "Oh no," she said simply, "I am not so bad as that. If you want me like that--I, who am not wanted by any one else--indeed, I will come." CHAPTER TWENTY ONE. CONFESSIONS.