"But you don't look at them—you don't care for them—I'll go and show them to Miss Silver."
"No," was the hasty answer. "Come back, Maud—Miss Silver is occupied."
Making some excuse, I sent the child away, for I saw that even Maud's presence was intolerable to her mother. That poor mother, whose suspense was growing into positive agony.
She waited—standing at the dining-room window—listening—going in and out of the hall,—for another ten minutes.
"It is very strange—very strange indeed. He promised to come and tell me; surely at least he ought to come and tell me first—me, his mother—"
She stopped at the word, oppressed by exceeding pain.
"Hark! was that the study door?"
"I think so; one minute more and you will be quite certain."
Ay! one minute more, and we WERE quite certain. The young lover entered—his bitter tidings written on his face.
"She has refused me, mother. I never shall be happy more."