She had left her candle by my bed, and her little offerings on the coverlet
by me. If I had stood an atom less in terror of goblins than I did, I
should have followed her, but I was afraid. I stood in my bare feet at my
bedside, and kissed the poor little ring and put it on my finger, where it
has remained ever since and always shall. And when I lay down, longing for
morning, the image of her pale, imploring, penitential face was before me
for hours; and I repented bitterly of my cool provoking ways, and thought
myself, I dare say justly, a thousand times more to blame than Milly.

I searched in vain for her before breakfast. At that meal, however, we met,
but in the presence of Uncle Silas, who, though silent and apathetic, was
formidable; and we, sitting at a table disproportionably large, under the
cold, strange gaze of my guardian, talked only what was inevitable, and
that in low tones; for whenever Milly for a moment raised her voice, Uncle
Silas would wince, place his thin white fingers quickly over his ear, and
look as if a pain had pierced his brain, and then shrug and smile piteously
into vacancy. When Uncle Silas, therefore, was not in the talking vein
himself--and that was not often--you may suppose there was very little
spoken in his presence.

When Milly, across the table, saw the ring upon my finger, she, drawing
in her breath, said, 'Oh!' and, with round eyes and mouth, she looked so
delighted; and she made a little motion, as if she was on the point of
jumping up; and then her poor face quivered, and she bit her lip; and
staring imploringly at me, her eyes filled fast with tears, which rolled
down her round penitential cheeks.

I am sure I felt more penitent than she. I know I was crying and smiling,
and longing to kiss her. I suppose we were very absurd; but it is well that