I am aware that you ran away from there, but—’ ‘Certainly I ran away,’ she said, meeting his gaze with defiance in her own. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. She had thought that all Morningside Park householders came home before seven at the latest, as her father usually did. The aspect of the place, so far as he could discern through the gloom, was strange to him; but chancing to raise his eyes above the level of the surrounding habitations, he beheld, relieved against the sombre sky, the tall steeple of Saint Giles's church, the precursor of the present structure, which was not erected till some fifteen years later. "He hears me not! he's gone!" she added, as the door was opened and shut with violence; "something tells me I shall never see him again!" When her father, a moment afterwards, issued from the parlour to ascertain the cause of the noise, he found her seated on the stairs, in an agony of grief. Women are hypocrites to the last—true only to themselves.
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