flitting, white and noiseless, and swift as an arrow, from the gate of the Cloister, wondering whether the maid would hear her knock at once, or if she would have to wait there at the door till Mr. Ridsdale appeared. But the door was opened at her first touch, to Lottie’s great surprise, by Law, who seemed to have been watching for her arrival. He wore a very discontented aspect, but this Lottie did not at first see, in her grateful sense of safety. “How early you are!” he said. “I did not expect you for an hour yet. It was scarcely worth while going out at all, if you were to come back so soon.” Lottie made no reply. She went upstairs to the little drawing-room, where the lamp had been screwed as low as possible to keep alight for her when she should return. The room was still more dim than Lady Caroline’s, and looked so small and insignificant in comparison. On the table was a tray with some bread and butter and a cup of milk, which was Lottie’s simple supper after her dissipation; for Lady Caroline’s cup of tea was scarcely enough for a girl who had eaten a not too luxurious dinner at two o’clock. She had no mind, however, for her supper now; but sat down on the little sofa and covered her eyes with her hand, and went back into her thoughts, half to prolong the excitement into which she had plunged, half to still herself and get rid of this sudden transport. It would be difficult to say which she wished most; to calm herself down or to continue that state of exaltation which proved to her new capabilities in her own being. She thought it was the former desire that moved her, and that to be quiet was all she wanted; but yet that strong tide running in her veins, that hot beating of her heart, that expansion and elevation of everything in her, was full of an incomprehensible agony of sweetness and exquisite sensation. She did not know what it was. She covered her eyes to shut out the immediate scene around her. The little shabby room, the bread and butter, and Law’s slouching figure manipulating the lamp--these, at least, were accessories which she had no desire to see. “Bother the thing!” said Law, “I can’t get it to burn. Here, Lottie! you can manage them. Oh! if you like to sit in the dark, I don’t mind. Were your fine people disagreeable? I always told you they wanted nothing but that you should sing for them and amuse them. They don’t care a rap for _you_!” Lottie took no notice of this speech. She withdrew her hand from her face, but still kept her eyes half-closed, unwilling to be roused out of her dream. “They’re all as selfish as old bears,” said Law; “most people are, for that matter. They never think of you; you’ve got to look after yourself; it’s their own pleasure they’re thinking of. What can you expect from strangers when a man that pretends to be one’s own father----?”