es to which we profess to aspire."

"I think the world grows more worldly every day," said Eleanor.

"That is because you see more of it than when you were younger. But
we should hardly judge by what we see--we see so very, very little."
There was then a pause for awhile, during which Mr. Arabin continued
to turn over his shillings and half-crowns. "If we believe in
Scripture, we can hardly think that mankind in general will now be
allowed to retrograde."

Eleanor, whose mind was certainly engaged otherwise than on the
general state of mankind, made no answer to this. She felt thoroughly
dissatisfied with herself. She could not force her thoughts away from
the topic on which the signora had spoken to her in so strange a way,
and yet she knew that she could not converse with Mr. Arabin in an
unrestrained, natural tone till she did so. She was most anxious not
to show to him any special emotion, and yet she felt that if he looked
at her, he would at once see that she was not at ease.

But he did not look at her. Instead of doing so, he left the
fire-place and began walking up and down the room. Eleanor took up her
book resolutely, but she could not read, for there was a tear in her
eye, and do what she would, it fell on her cheek. When Mr. Arabin's
back was turned to her, she wiped it away; but another was soon
coursing down her face in its place. They would come--not a deluge
of tears that would have betrayed her at once, but one by one, single
monitors. Mr. Arabin did not observe her closely, and they passed
unseen.

Mr. Arabin, thus pacing up and down the room, took four or five turns
before he spoke another word, and Eleanor sat equally silent with her
face bent over her book. She was afraid that her tears would get the
better of her, and was preparing for an escape from the room, when
Mr. Arabin in his walk stood opposite to her. He did not come close
up but stood exactly on the spot to which his course brought him, and
then, with his hands under his coat-tails, thus made his confession.

"Mrs. Bold," said he, "I owe you retribution for a great offence of
which I have been guilty towards you." Eleanor's heart beat so that
she could not trust herself to say that he had never been guilty of
any offence. So Mr. Arabin thus went on.

"I have thought much of it since, and I am now aware that I was wholly
unwarranted in putting to you a question which I once asked you. It
was indelicate on my part, and perhaps unma