The Governess.


Linley had one instant left, in which he might have drawn, back
into the library in time to escape Sydney's notice. He was
incapable of the effort of will. Grief and suspense had deprived
him of that elastic readiness of mind which springs at once from
thought to action. For a moment he hesitated. In that moment she
looked up and saw him.

With a faint cry of alarm she let the cloak drop from her hands.
As helpless as he was, as silent as he was, she stood rooted to
the spot.

He tried to control himself. Hardly knowing what he said, he made
commonplace excuses, as if he had been a stranger: "I am sorry to
have startled you; I had no idea of finding you in this room."

Sydney pointed to her cloak on the floor, and to her hat on a
chair near it. Understanding the necessity which had brought her
into the room, he did his best to reconcile her to the meeting
that had followed.

"It's a relief to me to have seen you," he said, "before you
leave us."

A relief to him to see her! Why? How? What did that strange word
mean, addressed to _her?_ She roused herself, and put the
question to him.