rks　are　closed　and　he　has　no　business　to　occupy　him。　Now；　Mr。　Rivers；　do　e。　Why　are　you　so　very　shy；　and　so　very　sombre？”　She　filled　up　the　hiatus　his　silence　left　by　a　reply　of　her　own。

“I　forgot！”　she　exclaimed；　shaking　her　beautiful　curled　head；　as　if　shocked　at　herself。　“I　am　so　giddy　and　thoughtless！　Do　excuse　me。　It　had　slipped　my　memory　that　you　have　good　reasons　to　be　indisposed　for　joining　in　my　chatter。　Diana　and　Mary　have　left　you；　and　Moor　House　is　shut　up；　and　you　are　so　lonely。　I　am　sure　I　pity　you。　Do　e　and　see　papa。”

“Not　to…night；　Miss　Rosamond；　not　to…night。”

Mr。　St。　John　spoke　almost　like　an　automaton：　himself　only　knew　the　effort　it　cost　him　thus　to　refuse。

“Well；　if　you　are　so　obstinate；　I　will　leave　you；　for　I　dare　not　stay　any　longer：　the　dew　begins　to　fall。　Good　evening！”

She　held　out　her　hand。　He　just　touched　it。　“Good　evening！”　he　repeated；　in　a　voice　low　and　hollow　as　an　echo。　She　turned；　but　in　a　moment　returned。

“Are　you　well？”　she　asked。　Well　might　she　put　the　question：　his　face　was　blanched　as　her　gown。

“Quite　well；”　he　enunciated；　and；　with　a　bow；　he　left　the　gate。　She　went　one　way；　he　another。　She　turned　twice　to　gaze　after　him　as　she　tripped　fairy…like　down　the　field；　he；　as　he　strode　firmly　across；　never　turned　at　all。

This　spectacle　of　another’s　suffering　and　sacrifice　rapt　my　thoughts　from　exclusive　meditation　on　my　own。　Diana　Rivers　had　designated　her　brother　“inexorable　as　death。”　S