in a day or two."

"Then I presume there will be no objection to my seeing Miss Sherwin
now?"

"None whatever---at once, if you like. This way, my dear Sir; this
way," and he led me across the passage, into the dining-room.

This apartment was furnished with less luxury, but with more bad taste
(if possible) than the room we had just left. Near the window sat
Margaret--it was the same window at which I had seen her, on the
evening when I wandered into the square, after our meeting in the
omnibus. The cage with the canary-bird hung in the same place. I just
noticed--with a momentary surprise--that Mrs. Sherwin was sitting far
away from her daughter, at the other end of the room; and then placed
myself by Margaret's side. She was dressed in pale yellow--a colour
which gave new splendour to her dark complexion and magnificently dark
hair. Once more, all my doubts, all my self-upbraidings vanished, and
gave place to the exquisite sense of happiness, the glow of joy and
hope and love which seemed to rush over my heart, the moment I looked
at her.

After staying in the room about five minutes, Mr. Sherwin whispered to
his wife, and left us. Mrs. Sherwin still kept her place; but she said
nothing, and hardly turned to look round at us more than once or
twice. Perhaps she was occupied by her own thoughts; perhaps, from a
motive of delicacy, she abstained even from an appearance of watching
her daughter or watching me. Whatever feelings influenced her, I cared
not to speculate on them. It was enough that I had the privilege of
speaking to Margaret uninterruptedly; of declaring my love at last,