happened, and was confounded by hearing that he was the cause.

"How strange it is," said he, in a low voice, to Hope, as the people
busied themselves in looking after the horses and carriage, and Gabriel
talked to Mrs. Simcoe, with whom he found conversation so much easier
than with Hope--"how strange it is that just as I was wondering when
and where and how I should see you again, I should meet you in this
way, Miss Wayne!"

Pleased, still weak and trembling, pale and flushed by turns, Hope
listened to him.

"Where _can_ I see you?" he continued; "certainly your grandfather was
unkind--"

Hope shook her head slowly. Abel watched every movement--every
look--every fluctuating change of manner and color, as if he knew
its most hidden meaning.

"I can see you nowhere but at home," she answered.

He did not reply. She stood silent. She wished he would speak. The
silence was dreadful. She could not bear it.

"I am very sorry," said she, in a whisper, her eyes fastened upon the
ground, her hands playing with her handkerchief.

"I hope you are," he said, quietly, with a tone of sadness, not of
reproach. There was another painful pause.