“What are you going to do?”

“I would find a way out of this house, if I knew how.”

“That’s easy enough,” said Rose with a slight sneer.  “There are plenty of ways.”

“Easy enough, —­if one could find the right one.”

“Why you’ve had me in the house a great while, already,” said Rose.

“I have had —­” said Elizabeth. —­ “I wonder if I shall ever have anything again!”

“Why what have you lost?”

“Everything —­ except myself.”

“You have a great respect for Mr. Haye,” said Rose.

“I had.”

Rose at this point thought fit to burst into a great fit of tears.  Elizabeth stood by the table, taking up and putting down one book after another, as if the touch of them gave her fingers pain; and looking as if, as she said, she had lost everything.  Then stood with folded arms eyeing something that was not before her; and then slowly walked out of the room.

“Lizzie —­” said Rose.

“What?” said Elizabeth stopping at the door.

“What’s the use of taking things so?”

“The use of necessity.”

“But we can be just as we were before.”

Elizabeth went on and gained her own room; and there she and pain had a fight that lasted the rest of the day.

The fight was not over, and weary traces of it were upon her face, when late in the afternoon she went out to try the change of a walk.  The walk made no change whatever.  As she was coming up the Parade, she was met by Winthrop going down.  If he had seen only the gravity and reserve of the morning, it is probable he would not have stopped to speak to her; but though those were in her face still, there was beside a weary set of the brow and sorrowful line of the lips, very unwonted there, and the cheeks were pale; and instead of passing with a mere bow he came up and offered his hand.  Elizabeth took it, but without the least brightening of face.

“Are you out for a walk?” said he.

“No —­ I am for home —­ I have had a walk.”

“It is a very fine afternoon,” said he, turning and beginning to walk along slowly with her.

“Is it?”

“Haven’t you found out that it is?”

“No.”

“Where have you been, not to know it?”

“Hum —­” said Elizabeth, —­ “if you mean where my mind has been, that is one question; as for my bodily self, I have been on the Castle Green.”

“You have lost your walk,” said he.  “Don’t you feel inclined to turn about with me and try to pick up what you came out for?”

“Better there than at home,” thought Elizabeth, and she turned about accordingly.

“People come out for a variety of things,” she remarked however.

“That is true,” said Winthrop smiling.  “I am afraid I was hasty in presuming I could help you to find your object.  I was thinking only of mine.”

“I don’t know but you could, as well as anybody,” said Elizabeth.  “If you could give me your mother’s secret for not minding disagreeable things.”