tance with her mother, annoyed me
extremely. You need not flatter yourself, however. It was not in the
least on account of any conscientious qualms, like yours.

I wished to know her personally from a totally different motive; and
yet, in spite of all attempts and stratagems on my part, I never could
get a chance of meeting her when I was in the company of some kind
friend to act as go-between and soothe the exigencies of introduction;
although, when alone I would encounter her frequently. This was very
vexing--especially so after a while; and I'll tell you how it was.

As the days flew by, and the new year, born in a moment, grew with giant
strides in that hasty growth common to all new years--they have a habit
of shooting ahead the first few months of their existence, as if they
desired to "force the pace," and make all the "running" they can--my
facilities for intercourse with Min became "small by degrees and
beautifully less." There you have the cause of my annoyance at once.

I could see her at the window, certainly. I also frequently passed her
mother and herself in the street, or on The Terrace, or along the
Prebend's Walk, when I was taking an airing abroad with dog Catch at my
heels; yet, I don't know how it was, but I invariably chanced to be on
the opposite side of the street, or road, or terrace, whenever I thus
passed them. I never failed to receive the timid little bow and smile
from Min, with a rosy heightening of her complexion the while--to which
I had now got so accustomed that, should I have been debarred from their
receipt, I would have considered myself very hardly used and felt a
morbid inclination to go mad and drown myself. But, Min's bow was
hardly sufficient to introduce me to her mother, even if people could be
introduced from opposite sides of roads. Thus it was that I remained a
stranger to Mrs Clyde, and did not have a chance of meeting her
daughter and talking to her, as I might have done if I could but have
visited her at home.

I never was able to have a word with her now, never could hear her
darling voice repeat my name in those soft accents I loved so well. It
was very hard--very hard, indeed! You see, I had ample reasons, beyond
the requirements of mere social etiquette, for wishing to know Mrs
Clyde.

Our suburb, you must know, was an extremely quiet place--"remote,
unfriended, solitary, slow."

Although everybody knew everybody, who happened to be anybody at all,
t