As they walked on he felt Mary Grey's arm trembling upon his own, and involuntarily he drew it closer, and, in so doing, he perceived the tremor and jar of her fast-beating heart, and he pitied her with a deep, tender, manly pity.
"I am afraid you feel chilled in this rain," he said, by way of saying something kind.
"No," she answered, softly, and said no more.
They got to the door of her dwelling, and he rang the bell and waited there with her until some one should come.
"I am very much indebted to you, Mr. Lytton," she said, softly and coolly; "but I am also very sorry to have given you so much trouble."
"I assure you it was no trouble; and I beg that you will not again attempt to go alone at night through the streets of Charlottesville," he answered, sadly.
"But why?" she asked. "What harm or danger can there be in my doing so?"
"Ladies never go out alone at night here. Many of the wild students are on the streets at night and are not always in their senses."
"Oh, I see! Well, I will try to take care of myself. I hear the page coming to open the door. Good-night, Mr. Lytton. You have been very kind. I thank you very much," said Mrs. Grey, coldly.
He touched his hat and turned away just as the door was opened.