her hand.

'I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr. Barmby.'

'Don't mention it. Will you sit down?'

'Yes, of course.' She spoke abstractedly, and took a seat not far from
him. 'I was just going out, but--there's no hurry.'

'I hardly know how to begin. Perhaps I had better prepare you by saying
that I have received very strange information.'

His air was magisterial; he subdued his voice to a note of profound
solemnity.

'What sort of information?' asked Nancy vaguely, her brows knitted in a
look rather of annoyance than apprehension.

'Very strange indeed.'

'You have said that already.'

Her temper was failing. She felt a nervous impulse to behave rudely, to
declare the contempt it was always difficult to disguise when talking
with Barmby.

'I repeat it, because you seem to have no idea what I am going to speak
of. I am the last person to find pleasure in such a disagreeable duty as
is now laid upon me. In that respect, I believe you will do me justice.'

'Will you speak plainly? This roundabout talk is intolerable.'

Samuel drew himself up, and regarded her with offended dignity. He had
promised himself no small satisfaction from this interview, had foreseen
its salient points. His mere aspect would be enough to subdue Nancy, and
when he began to speak she would tremble before him. Such a moment would
repay him for the enforced humility of years. Perhaps she would weep;
she might even implore him to be merciful. How to act in that event he
had quite made up his mind. But all such anticipations were confused by
Nancy's singular behaviour. She seemed, in truth, not to understand the
hints which should have overwhelmed her.

More magisterial than ever, he began to speak with slow emphasis.

'Miss. Lord,--I will still address you by that name,--though for a very
long time I have regarded you as a person worthy of all admiration, and
have sincerely humbled myself before you, I cannot help thinking that a
certain respect is due to me. Even though I find that you have deceived
me as to your position, the old feelings are still so strong in me that
I could not bear to give you needless pain. Instead of announcing to my
father, and to other people, the strange facts which I have learnt, I
come here as a friend,--I speak with all possible forbearance,--I do my
utmost to spare you. Am I not justified in expecting at least courteous
treatment?'

A pause of awful impressiveness. The listener, fully conscious a