"He must have had some trouble yesterday," was the thought that
constantly arose in the embroideress' mind as she saw some change in
the features of the "Black Gentleman."

"Oh, he has been working too hard!" was a reflection due to another
shade of expression which Caroline could discern.

The stranger, on his part, could guess when the girl had spent Sunday
in finishing a dress, and he felt an interest in the pattern. As
quarter-day came near he could see that her pretty face was clouded by
anxiety, and he could guess when Caroline had sat up late at work; but
above all, he noted how the gloomy thoughts that dimmed the cheerful
and delicate features of her young face gradually vanished by degrees
as their acquaintance ripened. When winter had killed the climbers and
plants of her window garden, and the window was kept closed, it was
not without a smile of gentle amusement that the stranger observed the
concentration of the light within, just at the level of Caroline's
head. The very small fire and the frosty red of the two women's faces
betrayed the poverty of their home; but if ever his own countenance
expressed regretful compassion, the girl proudly met it with assumed
cheerfulness.

Meanwhile the feelings that had arisen in their hearts remained buried
there, no incident occurring to reveal to either of them how deep and
strong they were in the other; they had never even heard the sound of
each other's voice. These mute friends were even on their guard
against any nearer acquaintance, as though it meant disaster. Each
seemed to fear lest it should bring on the other some grief more
serious than those they felt tempted to share. Was it shyness or
friendship that checked them? Was it a dread of meeting with