"Oh, my poor lost lamb!" he said, as I lay clasped in his arms too happy for speech, "where have you been all this time?"
"I have been at Mrs. Gray's; how is Kate?"
"She is well, but unhappy about you. Who is Mrs. Gray? Where does she live? Is she kind? Why are you so pale?"
"I am not well; I take physic every morning; Mrs. Gray is very kind; she lives in Auckland Square, number three."
"I know the place; but why, you naughty child, did you not write to let us know where you were?"
"Mrs. Gray would not let me. I wrote to Mr. Thornton, and he never answered; but Mrs. Gray was very kind; once she went to Parkins, and found out that you and Kate were quite well, and another time she took me to the Grove, and I saw you both through the open window; it was in the evening; you sang the 'Exile of Erin;' I stood with Mrs. Gray listening on the other side of the street."
"And you never even came to the door?"
"Mrs. Gray would not have allowed it; besides—"
"Well, what is it?"
"You know," I replied, shunning his look, "what you said to me before I went to Miss Clapperton's."