e herself finally sure that Paphlagonia was
not on the Levantine coast, and fix her total darkness about the
Chalybes firmly on the shores of the Euxine. A map was a fine thing to
study when you were disposed to think of something else, being made up
of names that would turn into a chime if you went back upon them.
Dorothea set earnestly to work, bending close to her map, and uttering
the names in an audible, subdued tone, which often got into a chime.
She looked amusingly girlish after all her deep experience--nodding
her head and marking the names off on her fingers, with a little
pursing of her lip, and now and then breaking off to put her hands on
each side of her face and say, "Oh dear! oh dear!"

There was no reason why this should end any more than a merry-go-round;
but it was at last interrupted by the opening of the door and the
announcement of Miss Noble.

The little old lady, whose bonnet hardly reached Dorothea's shoulder,
was warmly welcomed, but while her hand was being pressed she made many
of her beaver-like noises, as if she had something difficult to say.

"Do sit down," said Dorothea, rolling a chair forward. "Am I wanted
for anything? I shall be so glad if I can do anything."

"I will not stay," said Miss Noble, putting her hand into her small
basket, and holding some article inside it nervously; "I have left a
friend in the churchyard." She lapsed into her inarticulate sounds,
and unconsciously drew forth the article which she was fingering. It
was the tortoise-shell lozenge-box, and Dorothea felt the color
mounting to her cheeks.

"Mr. Ladislaw," continued the timid little woman. "He fears he has
offended you, and has begged me to ask if you will see him for a few
minutes."

Dorothea did not answer on the instant: it was crossing her mind that
she could not receive him in this library, where her husband's
prohibition seemed to dwell. She looked towards the window. Could she
go out and meet him in the grounds? The sky was heavy, and the trees
had begun to shiver as at a coming storm. Besides, she shrank from
going out to him.

"Do see him, Mrs. Casaubon," said Miss Noble, pathetically; "else I
must go back and say No, and that will hurt him."

"Yes, I will see him," said Dorothea. "Pray tell him to come."

What else was there to be done? There was nothing that she longed for
at that moment except to see Will: the possibility of seeing him had
thrust itself insistently between