Elizabeth. “No! as I live, it is Dr. Leroy!” She saw that Millicent had already turned deadly pale, and trembled violently. “What shall I do?” she said. “What will become of me?” Elizabeth could only say hurriedly, “Do and say nothing which can unnecessarily hurt his mind. Poor fellow, he is wretched enough. May God Almighty aid and guide you both.” Dr. Leroy had tied his horse to a rail not far from the others, and was already coming agitatedly towards them. He put out his hand, and accosted them with a face full of misery, and which could not assume even a melancholy smile. “I am an intruder, ladies,” he said; “that is my misfortune; but excuse me for a few minutes; I will not distress you long; but I must, as a last favour, request of Millicent a few words to ourselves. They shall be but few.” His lips quivered, his voice faltered. Millicent looked imploringly to Miss Drury. “Oh, _go_, dear Millicent!” she said; “Dr. Leroy’s request, under the circumstances, is most reasonable. You are old, and, I trust, still dear friends; give him a kind hearing, give him what comfort you can.” Millicent moved away silently, in a direction down the hill, beyond the tower, and her once-beloved suitor moved silently by her side. Elizabeth Drury threw herself again on the warm summer turf, hid her face in her hands, and prayed, prayed, prayed, as if she would call back some dear one from the dead, or would conquer from the All-ruling Mind some repeal of fate. When she looked up, she saw the unhappy pair standing quite out of hearing. Dr. Leroy was speaking very earnestly, Millicent as earnestly looking on the ground, and switching the grass with her riding-whip. Now she replied as earnestly; now they moved away a little, now they stood again face to face. She saw Millicent weeping violently; saw Dr. Leroy take her hand and kiss it passionately, and again they stood as if silent and in perplexity. Though Dr. Leroy said that his words should be few, the interview drew on, and became long. He himself seemed to grow warm and eloquent, Millicent to content herself with some significant shakes of the head. “I wonder,” said Elizabeth to herself, “though miracles, they say, have ceased, whether a little one might not be wrought for the happiness of these good young people. Oh! what misery has that London visit perpetrated on a whole circle of good creatures; and, yet, as far as I can see, everybody might be just as happy as ever—if they could only think so. There is a fine, frank, clever, and good young fellow; well, really, I could like him myself, if I did not like somebody better, and that silly girl has sent him to the right about for a London money-bag. Really, we women are very silly with all our sharpness. Here they come! Good gracious! It is no good. They look like ghosts!”