mr. thornton stood by one of the windows, with his back to the door,apparently absorbed in watching something in the street. but, in truth,he was afraid of himself. his heart beat thick at the thought of hering. he could not forget the touch of her arms around his neck,impatiently felt as it had been at the time; but now the recollection ofher clinging defence of him, seemed to thrill him through and through,-tomelt away every resolution, all power of self-control, as if it werewax before a fire. he dreaded lest he should go forwards to meet her,with his arms held out in mute entreaty that she would e and nestlethere, as she had done, all unheeded, the day before, but never unheededagain. his heart throbbed loud and quick strong man as he was, hetrembled at the anticipation of what he had to say, and how it might bereceived. she might droop, and flush, and flutter to his arms, as to hernatural home and resting-place. one moment, he glowed withimpatience at the thought that she might do this, the next, he feared a

passionate rejection, the very idea of which withered up his future withso deadly a blight that he refused to think of it. he was startled by thesense of the presence of some one else in the room. he turned round.

she had e in so gently, that he had never heard her; the street noiseshad been more distinct to his inattentive ear than her slow movements,in her soft muslin gown.

she stood by the table, not offering to sit down. her eyelids weredropped half over her eyes; her teeth were shut, not pressed; herlips were just parted over them, allowing the white line to be seenbetween their curve. her slow deep breathings dilated her thin andbeautiful nostrils; it was the only motion visible on her countenance.

the fine-grained skin, the oval cheek, the rich outline of her mouth, itscorners deep set in dimples,--were all wan and pale to-day; the loss oftheir usual natural healthy colour being made more evident by theheāvy shadow of the dark hair, brought down upon the temples, to hideall sign of the blow she had received. her head, for all its droopingeyes, was thrown a little back, in the old proud attitude. her long armshung motion-less by her sides. altogether she looked like someprisoner, falsely accused of a crime that she loathed and despised, andfrom which she was too indignant to justify herselfmr. thornton made a hasty step or two forwards; recovered himself,and went with quiet firmness to the door (which she had left open), andshut it. then he came back, and stood opposite to her for a moment,receiving the general impression of her beautiful presence, before hedared to disturb it, perhaps to repel it, by what he had to say.

\"miss hale, i was very ungrateful yesterday--\"

\"you had nothing to be grateful for,\" said she, raising her eyes, andlooking full and straight at him. \"you mean, i suppose, that you believeyou ought to thank me for what i did.\" in spite of herself--in defiance ofher anger--the thick blushes came all over her face, and burnt into hervery eyes; which fell not nevertheless from their grāve and steady look.

\"it was only a natural instinct; any woman would hāve done just thesame. we all feel the sanctity of our sex as a high privilege when wesee danger. i ought rather,\" said she, hastily, \"to apologise to you, forhāving said thoughtless words which sent you down into the danger.\"

\"it was not your words; it was the truth they conveyed, pun-gently as itwas expressed. but you shall not drive me off upon that, and so escapethe expression of my deep gratitude, my--\" he was on the verge now; hewould not speak in the haste of his hot passion; he would weigh eachword. he would; and his will was triumphant. he stopped in mid career.

..（／t｜）

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