er hand, first telling her
that he knew her name was Mary, at which singular piece of divination she
betrayed much natural astonishment. But a fine round silver coin and an
urgent request for an envelope, told her as plainly as a blank confession
that this was a lover. She informed him that she lived three streets off,
where there were shops. "Well, then," said Wilfrid, "bring me the
envelope here, and you'll have another opportunity of looking down the
area."

"Think of yourself," replied she, saucily; but proved a diligent
messenger. Then Wilfrid wrote on a fresh slip:

"When I said 'Free,' I meant free in heart and without a single chain to
keep me from you. From any moment that you please, I am free. This is
written in the dark."

He closed the envelope, and wrote Emilia's name and the address as black
as his pencil could achieve it, and with a smart double-knock he
deposited the missive in the box. From his station opposite he guessed
the instant when it was taken out, and from that judged when she would be
reading it. Or perhaps she would not read it till she was alone? "That
must be her bedroom," he said, looking for a light in one of the upper
windows; but the voice of a fellow who went by with: "I should keep that
to myself, if I was you," warned him to be more discreet.

"Well, here I am. I can't leave the street," quoth Wilfrid, to the stock
of philosophy at his disposal. He burned with rage to think of how he
might be exhibiting himself before Powys and his sister.

It was half-past nine when a carriage drove up to the door. Into this Mr.
Powys presently handed Georgiana and Emilia. Braintop followed the
ladies, and then the coachman received his instructions and drove away.
Forthwith Wilfrid started in pursuit. He calculated that if his wind held
till he could jump into a light cab, his legitimate prey Braintop might
be caught. For, "they can't be taking him to any party with them!" he
chose to think, and it was a fair calculation that they were simply
conducting Braintop part of his way home. The run was pretty swift.
Wilfrid's blood was fired by the pace, until, forgetting the traitor
Braintop, up rose Truth from the bottom of the well in him, and he felt
that his sole desire was to see Emilia once more--but once! that night.
Running hard, in the midst of obstacles, and with eye and mind fined on
one object, disasters befell him. He knocked apples off a stall, and
heard vehement hallooing behind: he