No gentle voice said “come in,” however, and the step which Elizabeth heard withinside after her knock, was not Winifred’s.  She had not expected that it would be; she had no reason to suppose that Winifred was well enough to be moving about as usual, and she was not surprised to see Winthrop open the door.  The shadow of a surprise crossed his face for an instant, —­ then bowing, he stepped back and opened the door wide for her to enter; but there was not the shadow of a smile.

“Well, you do look wonderfully grave!” was Elizabeth’s thought as her foot crossed the threshold, —­ “I wonder if I am doing something dreadful —­”

And the instant impulse was to account for her being there, by presenting her business —­ not the business she had intended to mention first.

She came in and stood by the table and began to speak; then he placed a chair for her, and after a second of hesitation she sat down.  She was embarrassed for a minute, then she looked up and looked him full in the face.

“Mr. Landholm, I am exceedingly obliged to you for your kindness in this late business, —­ you were very good to me.”

“It was not kindness —­ I felt you had a right to ask what I could not refuse, Miss Elizabeth.”

“I have come to bring you the money which I did not like to get to you by any other means.”

She handed it to him, and he took it and counted it over.  Elizabeth sat looking on, musing how tremulous her own hand had been, and how very cool and firm his was; and thinking that whatever were said by some people, there certainly was character in some hands.

“This will be handed to Mr. Haye,” he said, as he finished the counting, —­ “and all the proceedings will fall to the ground at once.”

“Thank you.”

“I cannot receive any thanks, Miss Elizabeth.  I am merely an agent, doing what I have been obliged to conclude was my duty.”

“I must thank you, though,” said Elizabeth.  “I feel so much relieved.  You are not obliged to disclose my name to Mr. Rufus Landholm?”

“Not at all.  To no one.”

“That is all my excuse for being here,” said Elizabeth with a slight hesitation, —­ “except I thought I might take the privilege of old friendship to come and see your sister.”

“Thank you,” he said in his turn, but without raising his eyes.  Yet it was not coldly spoken.  Elizabeth did not know what to think of him.

“Can I see her, Mr. Landholm?  Is she well enough to see me?”

He looked up then; and there was, hardly a smile, but a singular light upon his whole face, that made Elizabeth feel exceedingly grave.

“She is well, but she will not see you again, Miss Elizabeth.  Winnie has left me.”

“Left! —­” said Elizabeth bewildered.

“Yes.  She has gone to her home.  Winnie died yesterday morning, Miss Haye.”

Elizabeth met the clear intent eye which, she did not know why, fixed hers while he spoke; and then dropping her own, trembled greatly with constrained feeling.  She could not tell in the least how to answer, either words or look; but it would have been impossible for her to stir an inch from the spot where she stood.