ll expect you to take a cup of tea the first night," said
Cradell; but Eames declared that they might expect it.

"I'm in no humour for it," said he. "I'll tell you what, Cradell, I
shall leave this place, and take rooms for myself somewhere. I'll
never go into a lodging-house again."

As he so spoke, he was standing at the dining-room door; but he was
not allowed to escape in this easy way. Jemima, as he went out into
the passage, was there with a three-cornered note in her hand. "From
Miss Mealyer," she said. "Miss Mealyer is in the back parlour all by
herself."

Poor Johnny took the note, and read it by the lamp over the front
door.

"Are you not going to speak to me on the day of your return? It
cannot be that you will leave the house without seeing me for a
moment. I am in the back parlour."

When he had read these words, he paused in the passage, with his
hat on. Jemima, who could not understand why any young man should
hesitate as to seeing his lady-love in the back parlour alone,
whispered to him again, in her audible way, "Miss Mealyer is there,
sir; and all the rest on 'em's upstairs!" So compelled, Eames put
down his hat, and walked with slow steps into the back parlour.

How was it to be with the enemy? Was he to encounter Amelia in anger,
or Amelia in love? She had seemed to be stern and defiant when he had
ventured to steal a look at her across the dining-table, and now he
expected that she would turn upon him with loud threatenings and
protestations as to her wrongs. But it was not so. When he entered
the room she was standing with her back to him, leaning on the
mantel-piece, and at the first moment she did not essay to peak. He
walked into the middle of the room and stood there, waiting for her
to begin.

"Shut the door!" she said, looking over her shoulder. "I suppose you
don't want the girl to hear all you've got to say to me!"

Then he shut the door; but still Amelia stood with her back to him,
leaning upon the mantel-piece.

It did not seem that he had much to say, for he remained perfectly
silent.

"Well!" said Amelia, after a long pause, and she then again looked
over her shoulder. "Well, Mr Eames!"

"Jemima gave me your note, and so I've come," said he.

"And is this the way we meet!" she exclaimed, turning suddenly upon
him, and throwing her long black hair back over her shoulders. There
certainly was some beauty about her. Her eyes were large and bright,
and her shoulders were