ately; not on the first day, and possibly not on the second, but
as soon as opportunity offers for my doing what I have planned with any
chance of success. And now, advise me how to circumvent my uncle and
aunt, who must never know to what an undertaking I have committed
myself."

Inspector Dalzell spared me another fifteen minutes, and this last
detail was arranged. Then he rose to go. As he turned from me he said:

"To-morrow?"

And I answered with a full heart, but a voice clear as my purpose:

"To-morrow."

XII. ALMOST

"This is your patient. Your new nurse, my dear. What did you say your
name is? Miss Ayers?"

"Yes, Mr. Grey, Alice Ayers."

"Oh, what a sweet name!"

This expressive greeting, from the patient herself, was the first
heart-sting I received,--a sting which brought a flush into my cheek
which I would fain have kept down.

"Since a change of nurses was necessary, I am glad they sent me one
like you," the feeble, but musical voice went on, and I saw a wasted but
eager hand stretched out.

In a whirl of strong feeling I advanced to take it. I had not counted on
such a reception. I had not expected any bond of congeniality to spring
up between this high-feeling English girl and myself to make my purpose
hateful to me. Yet, as I stood there looking down at her bright if
wasted face, I felt that it would be very easy to love so gentle and
cordial a being, and dreaded raising my eyes to the gentleman at my side
lest I should see something in him to hamper me, and make this attempt,
which I had undertaken in such loyalty of spirit, a misery to myself and
ineffectual to the man I had hoped to save by it. When I did look up and
catch the first beams of Mr. Grey's keen blue eyes fixed inquiringly on
me, I neither knew what to think nor how to act. He was tall and firmly
knit, and had an intellectual aspect altogether. I was conscious of
regarding him with a decided feeling of awe, and found myself forgetting
why I had come there, and what my suspicions were,--suspicions which had
carried hope with them, hope for myself and hope for my lover, who would
never escape the opprobrium, even if he did the punishment, of this
great crime, were this, the only other person who could possibly be
associated with it, found to be the fine, clear-souled man he appeared
to be in this my first interview with him.

Perceiving very soon that his apprehensions in my regard were limited to
a fear lest I should no