going into a small half-country ale-house close by, but
she refused saying, that if seen to do so, and it became known to her
husband, it might cause much harm. "Oh! no," said she in a hurry again,
"I must go, I must get back, I came to ask you not to hurt her, promise
you won't for my sake." All this time I was in a fog. "Who--who,--what
do you mean?" said I. "Oh you know,--Mary, I mean Mary, she is my
favorite sister, pray don't harm her." The whole affair was clear to me
at once. "It that what you came about?" I asked disappointed. "Yes, I
have been coming for a fortnight, but could not make up my mind; her
last letter made me determine at any risk to do so, and now dear,
promise me not to hurt her, and I will go."

I was annoyed and wounded in vanity, for I had almost brought myself to
think she had come for the pleasure of meeting me. I had no intention of
quitting her so soon, felt as if I could not, so chaffed her, "What do
you mean by hurting her?" "Don't talk nonsense, you know what I mean."
"Another case of cock and cunt coming together." "If you talk like
that, you insult me, and I did not think you would." "Well, I love you
and would not like to hurt your feelings, what you really mean is, that
I am not to try to do it to her." "Why of course, don't ruin her, that
is what I mean."

We had walked without any intention on my part to the outskirts of our
village, where the pew-opener's house was in which Charlotte and I had
spent many an hour in love's frolics. The house was in sight, the hope
of again having her came to my mind. In her excitement, which was as
great if not greater than mine, she had not noticed where we were, until
quite at the angle. The pew-opener was at the door, gave me a nod, and
thinking it possible I might be coming in I suppose, left the door ajar.
"Come in," said I. "Never! oh! no, you have brought me here purposely."
I saw there would be difficulty. "Here is that old Courtauld's
house-maid, damn her," said I. "Where,--where,--which way?" said she
looking in alarm in all directions, but unable to see clearly through
her veil. "There,--there," "just step inside the door till she has
past." She stepped in quickly, the next instant I half pulled, half
hustled her through the little door into the bed-room, slammed the door,
locked it, and stood still, half afraid of my own boldness. She went
to the window and began to peer through the blinds to see the old
housemaid.

"I can't see her,