matter of business; to _him_ she could not speak. It was to me that
she addressed all her wonted questions and remarks of the morning. I
hardly listened to them; I answered them carelessly and briefly. The
moment breakfast was over, without a word of explanation I hastily
left the house again.

As I descended the steps, I glanced by accident at the dining-room
window. Clara was looking after me from it. There was the same anxious
expression on her face which it had worn when she left me the evening
before. She smiled as our eyes met--a sad, faint smile that made her
look unlike herself. But it produced no impression on me then: I had
no attention for anything but my approaching interview with Margaret.
My life throbbed and burned within me, in that direction: it was all
coldness, torpor, insensibility, in every other.

I reached Hollyoake Square nearly an hour before the appointed time.
In the suspense and impatience of that long interval, it was
impossible to be a moment in repose. I walked incessantly up and down
the square, and round and round the neighbourhood, hearing each
quarter chimed from a church clock near, and mechanically quickening
my pace the nearer the time came for the hour to strike. At last, I
heard the first peal of the eventful eleven. Before the clock was
silent, I had taken up my position within view of the gate of North
Villa.

Five minutes passed--ten--and no one appeared. In my impatience, I
could almost have rung the bell and entered the house, no matter who
might be there, or what might be the result. The first quarter struck;
and at that very moment I heard the door open, and saw Margaret, and
the servant with whom I had spoken, descending the steps.