By unremitting kindness and such generous sentiments, did Lotte seek to win her from the indulgence of her deep sorrow, and at other times, by simple questions about famous cities and spots, of which she had only heard and Helen had visited, she contrived to restore her to something like calmness.
It was while speaking—almost in a state of abstraction—that Helen’s eyes involuntarily fell upon a glass which reflected the door of the apartment; she uttered an exclamation of affrighted surprise, pressed her hands over her face to conceal it, and cowering, as if she should shrink into the place beneath at every step, tottered, rather than ran, out of the room.
At the same moment, Lotte was startled by hearing a voice, whose tones were quite unknown to her, exclaim—
“Beg pardon. Don’t let me disturb anybody. I want to see Miss Clinton.”
She turned round in her seat with the rapidity of lightning, and beheld, standing in the doorway, a young gentleman, who was to her an utter stranger.
CHAPTER VIII.—THE COMPACT.
For ’tis the sport to have the engineer
Hoist with his own petard, and it shall go hard,