"Owen—what I've done? I haven't the least idea," said Mrs. Gereth. CHAPTER XXII!

"Please let me out, Mr. Gereth," she said; on which he opened the door with an hesitation so very brief that in thinking of these things afterwards—for she was to think of them forever—she wondered in what tone she could have spoken. They went into the hall, where she encountered the parlor-maid, of whom she inquired whether Mrs. Gereth had come in. "I explained to her fully your position and put before her much more strongly than she liked what seemed to me her absolute duty."

"But it's cured of that now," her companion added. "Burning still, miss. Ain't it quite too dreadful? Took early this morning—the whole place is up there." Owen hesitated; then, "Oh, she's all right!" he laughed. "I go by Mrs. Brigstock's certain effect on her—the effect of the temper the old lady showed when we parted. Do you know what she asked me?" he sociably continued. "She asked me in a kind of nasty manner if I supposed you 'really' cared anything about me. Of course I told her I supposed you didn't—not a solitary rap. How could I suppose you do, with your extraordinary ways? It doesn't matter; I could see she thought I lied."