sband, and you will tell
her. There will be nothing to alarm you. Some trifling event will
bring us together the next time--as trifling, I dare say, as the
engagement of Ferrari. Sad nonsense, Mr. Westwick, is it not? But you
make allowances for women; we all talk nonsense. Good morning, Miss
Lockwood.'

She opened the door--suddenly, as if she was afraid of being called
back for the second time--and left them.

CHAPTER XII

'Do you think she is mad?' Agnes asked.

'I think she is simply wicked. False, superstitious, inveterately
cruel--but not mad. I believe her main motive in coming here was to
enjoy the luxury of frightening you.'

'She has frightened me. I am ashamed to own it--but so it is.'

Henry looked at her, hesitated for a moment, and seated himself on the
sofa by her side.

'I am very anxious about you, Agnes,' he said. 'But for the fortunate
chance which led me to call here to-day--who knows what that vile woman
might not have said or done, if she had found you alone? My dear, you
are leading a sadly unprotected solitary life. I don't like to think
of it; I want to see it changed--especially after what has happened
to-day. No! no! it is useless to tell me that you have your old nurse.
She is too old; she is not in your rank of life--there is no sufficient
protection in the companionship of such a person for a lady in your
position. Don't mistake me, Agnes! what I say, I say in the sincerity
of my devotion to you.' He paused, and took her hand. She made a
feeble effort to withdraw it--and yielded. 'Will the day never come,'
he pleaded, 'when the privilege of protecting you may be mine? when you
will be the pride and joy of my life, as long as my life lasts?' He
pressed her hand gently. She made no reply. The colour came and went
on her face; her eyes were turned away from him. 'Have I been so
unhappy as to offend you?' he asked.

She answered that--she said, almost in a whisper, 'No.'

'Have I distressed you?'

'You have made me think of the sad days that are gone.' She said no
more; she only tried to withdraw her hand from his for the second time.
He still held it; he lifted it to his lips.

'Can I never make you think of other days than those--of the happier
days to come? Or, if you must think of the time that is passed, can
you not look back to the time when I first loved you?'

She sighed as he put the question. 'Spare me, Henry,' she answered
sadly. 'Say no more!'

The co