presence. There were many subjects on which it would have seemed natural
for them to speak, had not Gertrude avoided them. The causes of Willie's
sudden return, his probable stay, his future plans in life, and his
reasons for having postponed his visit until he had been in the country
more than a week--all these were inquiries which curiosity would have
suggested; but to Gertrude they all lay under embargo. She neither felt
prepared to receive nor willing to force the confidence on matters which
must be influenced by his engagement with Miss Clinton, and therefore
preserved silence on these topics. And Willie, deeply grieved at this
strange want of sympathy on her part, forebore to thrust upon her notice
these seemingly neglected circumstances.

They talked of Calcutta life, of Parisian novelties, of Gertrude's
school-keeping, and many other things, but not a word of matters nearest
to the hearts of both. At length a servant announced tea. Mr. Graham
rose and stood with his back to the fire. Willie rose also and prepared
to take leave. Mr. Graham, with frigid civility, invited him to remain,
and Gertrude urged him to do so; but he declined with such decision that
the latter understood that he felt the neglect with which Mr. Graham had
treated him and his visit. In addition to the fact that the old
gentleman disliked young men as a class, and that Willie had intruded
upon the privacy in which he was indulging, there was the bitter
recollection that Gertrude had once forsaken himself and Emily (for so
he in his own mind styled her conscientious choice between conflicting
duties) for the very family of which their visitor was the only
remaining member--a recollection which did not tend to conciliate the
prejudiced man.

Gertrude accompanied Willie to the door. The rain had ceased, but the
wind whistled across the piazza. It was growing cold. Willie buttoned
his coat, and promised to see Gertrude on the following day.

"You have no overcoat," said she; "the night is chilly, and you are
accustomed to a hot climate. You had better take this shawl;" and she
took from the hat-tree a heavy Scotch plaid. He thanked her and threw it
over his arm; then, taking both her hands in his, looked her steadily in
the face for a moment, as if he would fain have spoken. But, seeing that
she shrank from his affectionate gaze, he dropped her hands and, with a
troubled expression, bade her good-night.

Gertrude stood with the handle of the d