’Oh, wait, Tom!  If I could but say it right!—­Oh!  I know there’s something about biding patiently, and getting a blessing—­if you’d only stop while I recollect it.’

‘I thought I heard voices!’ exclaimed Mrs. Martha, suddenly descending on them.  ’I wonder you aren’t ashamed of yourselves, and the family in such trouble!  Downright owdacious!’

‘Be this your house?’ said Tom, stepping before Charlotte, his dejection giving way instantly to rude independence.

‘Oh, very well,’ said Martha, with dignity.  ’I know what to expect from such sort of people.  The house and young woman is in my charge, sir; and if you don’t be off, I’ll call the police.’

‘Never trouble your old bones!’ retorted Tom.

‘Good-bye to you, Charlotte;’ and, as in defiance of Martha, he took her passive hand.  ’You’ll remember one as loved you true and faithful, but was drove desperate!  Good-bye!  I’ll not trouble no one no more!’

The three concluding negatives with which he dashed out of the house utterly overwhelmed Charlotte, and made her perfectly insensible to Mrs. Martha’s objurgations.  She believed in the most horrible and desperate intentions, and sobbed herself into such violent hysterics that Miss Mercy came in to assist—­imagined that the rude boy had terrified her, misunderstood her shamefaced attempts at explanation, and left her lying on her bed, crying quietly over her secret terrors, and over that first, strangely-made declaration of love.  The white dove! she did not deserve it, but it was so poetical! and poor Tom was so unhappy!  She had not time even to think what was become of her own character for wisdom and prudence.

The next morning, between monition and triumph, Martha announced that the good-for-nothing chap was off with a valuable parcel of Mr. Calcott’s, and the police were after him; with much more about his former idle habits,—­frequenting of democratic oratory, public-houses, and fondness for bad company and strolling actors.  Meek and easily cowed, Charlotte only opened her lips to say she knew that he had taken home Mr. Calcott’s parcel.  But this brought down a storm on her for being impertinent enough to defend him, and she sat trembling till it had subsided; and Martha retreating, left her to weep unrestrainedly over her wild fancies, and the world’s cruelty and injustice towards one whom, as she was now ready to declare, she loved with her whole heart.

The bell rang sharply, knocks rattled at the front door!  She was sure that Tom had been just taken out of the river!  But instinct to answer the bell awoke at the second furious clattering and double pealing, which allowed no time for her to compose her tear-streaked, swollen face, especially as the hasty sounds suggested ‘Mr. James.’

Mr. James it was, but the expected rebuke for keeping him waiting was not spoken.  As he saw her sorrowful looks, he only said, low and softly, ‘Is it so, Charlotte?’ In his eyes, there could be but one cause for grief, and Charlotte’s heart smote her for hypocrisy, when she could barely command her voice to reply, ’No, sir; my Lord has had a little better night.’