eyes.

Clara stepped quietly to my side; and sitting down by me in silence, put
her arm round my neck.

When I was calmer, she said gently:

"I have been very anxious about you, Basil; and perhaps I have allowed
that anxiety to appear more than I ought. Perhaps I have been accustomed
to exact too much from you--you have been too ready to please me. But I
have been used to it so long; and I have nobody else that I can speak to
as I can to you. Papa is very kind; but he can't be what you are to me
exactly; and Ralph does not live with us now, and cared little about me,
I am afraid, when he did. I have friends, but friends are not--"

She stopped again; her voice was failing her. For a moment, she
struggled to keep her self-possession--struggled as only women can--and
succeeded in the effort. She pressed her arm closer round my neck; but
her tones were steadier and clearer when she resumed:

"It will not be very easy for me to give up our country rides and walks
together, and the evening talk that we always had at dusk in the old
library at the park. But I think I can resign all this, and go away
alone with papa, for the first time, without making you melancholy by
anything I say or do at parting, if you will only promise that when you
are in any difficulty you will let me be of some use. I think I could
always be of use, because I should always feel an interest in anything
that concerned you. I don't want to intrude on your secret; but if that
secret should ever bring you trouble or distress (which I hope and pray
it may not), I want you to have confidence in my being able to help you,
in some way, through any mischances. Let me go into the country, Basil,
knowing that you can still put trust in me, even though a time should
come when you can put trust in no one else--let me know this: _do_ let
me!"

I gave her the assurance she desired--gave it with my whole heart. She
seemed to have recovered all her old influence over me by the few simple
words she had spoken. The thought crossed my mind, whether I ought not
in common gratitude to confide my secret to her at once, knowing as I
did, that it would be safe in her keeping, however the disclosure might
startle or pain her, I believe I should have told her all, in another
minute, but for a mere accident--the trifling interruption caused by a
knock at the door.

It came from one of the servants. My father desired to see Clara on some
matter connected with their impen