A suspicion which during his absence had suggested itself to Kenelm's
inquiring mind now took strong confirmation. He approached softly,
drew a chair close to the companion whom fate had forced upon him, and
said in a gentle whisper,--

"This is no boy's agitation. If you have been deceived or misled, and
I can in any way advise or aid you, count on me as women under the
circumstances count on men and gentlemen."

The boy started to his feet, and paced the room with disordered steps,
and a countenance working with passions which he attempted vainly to
suppress. Suddenly arresting his steps, he seized Kenelm's hand,
pressed it convulsively, and said, in a voice struggling against a
sob,--

"I thank you,--I bless you. Leave me now: I would be alone. Alone,
too, I must face this man. There may be some mistake yet; go."

"You will promise not to leave the house till I return?"

"Yes, I promise that."

"And if it be as I fear, you will then let me counsel with and advise
you?"

"Heaven help me, if so! Whom else should I trust to? Go, go!"

Kenelm once more found himself in the streets, beneath the mingled
light of gas-lamps and the midsummer moon. He walked on mechanically
till he reached the extremity of the town. There he halted, and