good night." Amelius took her hand; he said good night with the
utmost gentleness, but he said it sorrowfully. She was not quite
comforted yet. "Would you mind, sir--?" She paused awkwardly, afraid
to go on. There was something so completely childlike in the artless
perplexity of her eyes, that Amelius smiled. The change in his
expression gave her back her courage in an instant; her pale delicate
lips reflected his smile prettily. "Would you mind giving me a kiss,
sir?" she said. Amelius kissed her. Let the man who can honestly say he
would have done otherwise, blame him. He shut the door between them once
more. She was quite happy now. He heard her singing to herself as she
got ready for bed.

Once, in the wakeful watches of the night, she startled him. He heard a
cry of pain or terror in the bedroom. "What is it?" he asked through the
door; "what has frightened you?" There was no answer. After a minute or
two, the cry was repeated. He opened the door, and looked in. She was
sleeping, and dreaming as she slept. One little thin white arm was
lifted in the air, and waved restlessly to and fro over her head. "Don't
kill me!" she murmured, in low moaning tones--"oh, don't kill me!"
Amelius took her arm gently, and laid it back on the coverlet of the
bed. His touch seemed to exercise some calming influence over her: she
sighed, and turned her head on the pillow; a faint flush rose on her
wasted cheeks, and passed away again--she sank quietly into dreamless
sleep.

Amelius returned to his sofa, and fell into a broken slumber. The
hours of the night passed. The sad light of the November morning dawned
mistily through the uncurtained window, and woke him.

He started up, and looked at the bedroom door. "Now what is to be done?"
That was his first thought, on waking: he was beginning to feel his
responsibilities at last.

CHAPTER 2

The landlady of the lodgings decided what was to be done.

"You will be so good, sir, as to leave my apartments immediately," she
said to Amelius. "I make no claim to the week's rent, in consideration
of the short notice. This is a respectable house, and it shall be kept
respectable at any sacrifice."

Amelius explained and protested; he appealed to the landlady's sense of
justice and sense of duty, as a Christian woman.

The reasoning which would have been irresistible at Tadmor was reasoning
completely thrown away in London. The landlady remained as impenetrable
as the Egyptian Sphinx.