servant, and she noted with interest, not unmixed
with pity, how nervous Gladys became as they neared their destination.
Mingling with her pity was a great curiosity to see the young man whose
image seemed to dwell in the constant heart of Gladys. It was a romance,
redeemed from vulgarity by the beauty and the sweet individuality of the
chief actor in it.

'I shall not knock. Don't let James get down,' cried Gladys, when the
carriage stopped at the familiar door. 'I shall just run in. I have a
fancy to enter unannounced.'

Clara nodded, and Gladys, springing out, opened and closed the familiar
door. Her very limbs shook as she went lightly along the dark passage
and pushed open the kitchen door. It was unchanged, yet somehow sadly
changed. A desolateness chilled her to the soul as she looked round the
wide, gaunt place, saw the feeble fire choking in the grate, and the
remains of a poor meal on the uncovered table. The light struggling
through the barred windows had never looked upon a more cheerless
picture. All things, they say, are judged by contrast. Perhaps it was
the contrast to what she had just left which made Gladys think she had
never seen her old home look more wretched and forlorn.

So lightly had she entered, and so lightly did she steal up the
warehouse stair, that the solitary being making out accounts at the desk
was not aware of her presence until she spoke. And then, oh how timid
her look and tone, just as if she feared greatly her reception.

'Excuse me coming in, Walter. I wanted so much to see you, I could not
help coming. I will not hinder you long.'

He leaped up in the greatness of his surprise, in his agitation knocking
over the stool on which he had been sitting. His face was dusky red, his
firm mouth trembling, as he touched for a moment the outstretched,
daintily-gloved hand.

'Oh, it is you? Won't you sit down? It is a battered old chair, but if
you wait a moment I'll bring you another,' he said awkwardly.

'No, don't. I have often sat on this box. I can sit on it again,' she
said unsteadily. 'I won't sit on ten chairs, Walter, though you should
bring them to me this moment.'

She sat down, and her movement sent a faint whiff of perfume about her,
dainty as herself. And then there was just a moment's painful silence.
The awkwardness of the moment dwelt with them both; it would be hard to
say which felt it more.

'I suppose,' said Walter stiffly, 'you are getting on all right?'

'