"Why, Mattie!—in tears!"
"Only for a moment, Mr. Sidney. It is very kind of you to come and see me—and you have taken me by surprise, that's all."
"She's to be kept quiet, sir," said Ann.
"I'll not make much noise," he answered.
He stood by the bed-side, looking down at the stricken girl. The change in her, the thin face, the haggard looks, increased as they were by illness, had been a shock to Sidney Hinchford, though he did his best to disguise all evidence from her.
"Go and sit there for the little while you must remain in this room," said Mattie, indicating a chair by the window, at some distance. "You were rash to come into this place."
"I'm not afraid of fever, Mattie, and I was not going to lose a chance of seeing you—the first chance I have had."
"And you don't think that I have been wrong, Mr. Sidney?" asked Mattie; "you haven't let all that Mr. Wesden has said, turn you against me? I'm so glad!"
"Mattie, there's a little mystery, but I daresay you can clear it—and I swear still by the old friend and adviser of Great Suffolk Street. And as for Mr. Wesden—why, I'm inclined to think that that old gentleman is growing ashamed of himself."
"You say nothing of Harriet?"