The door opened, and Harkness thrust his handsome head into the room.  He was evidently looking for her.  When he saw her he came in hastily, shutting the door and standing with his back to it, as if he did not care to enter further.

Eliza had not seen him that day.  After what had happened, she rather dreaded the next interview, as she did not know what he might find to say; but the instant she saw him, she perceived that it was something more decisive than he had ever shown sign of before.  He looked tired, and at the same time as if his spirit was upwrought within him and his will set to some purpose.

“I’m real glad to see you,” he said, but not pleasantly.  “I’ve been looking for you; and it’s just as well for you I found you without more ado.”

“I’m just going out,” said Eliza; “I can’t stay now.”

“You’ll just stop a bit where you are, and hear what I’m going to say.”

“I can’t,” said she, angrily; but he was at the door, and she made no movement towards it.

He talked right on.  “I’m going away,” he said.  “I’ve packed up all that I possess here in this place, and I’m going to depart by this afternoon’s train.  No one much knows of this intention.  I take it you won’t interfere, so I don’t mind confiding my design to your kind and sympathetic breast.”

The emphasis he laid on the eulogy was evidently intended for bitter sarcasm.  Anger gave her unwonted glibness.

“I’ll ask you to be good enough to pay our bill, then.  If you’re making off because you can’t pay your other debts it’s no affair of mine.”

He bowed mockingly.  “You are real kind.  Can’t think how much obliged I am for your tactful reminder; but it don’t happen to be my financial affairs that I came to introdooce to your notice.”  He stammered a moment, as if carried rather out of his bearings by his own loquacity.  “It’s—­it’s rather your finances that I wish to enlarge upon.”

She opposed herself to him in cold silence that would not betray a gleam of curiosity.

“You’re a mighty fine young lady, upon my word!” he observed, running his eye visibly over her apparel.  “Able to work for yourself, and buy silk skirts, and owning half a bit of ground that people are beginning to think will be worth something considerable when they get to mining there.  Oh, you’re a fine one—­what with your qualities and your fortune!”

A sudden unbecoming colour came with tell-tale vehemence over her cheek and brow.

“Your qualities of mind, as I’ve remarked, are fine; but the qualities of your heart, my dear, are finer still.  I’ve been making love to you, with the choicest store of loving arts, for eight long months; and the first blush I’ve been enabled to raise on your lovely countenance is when I tell you you’ve more money than you looked for!  You’re a tender-hearted young lady!”

“The only train I ever heard of on Sunday afternoon goes pretty soon,” she said; and yet there was now an eager look of curiosity in her eyes that belied her words.