I crumpled up the letter in my pocket, and forgot it the moment after,

in the all-absorbing interest of my coming interview with Rachel.

As the clock of Hampstead church struck three, I put Mr. Bruff's key

into the lock of the door in the wall. When I first stepped into the

garden, and while I was securing the door again on the inner side, I

own to having felt a certain guilty doubtfulness about what might

happen next. I looked furtively on either side of me; suspicious of

the presence of some unexpected witness in some unknown corner of the

garden. Nothing appeared, to justify my apprehensions. The walks

were, one and all, solitudes; and the birds and the bees were the only

witnesses.

I passed through the garden; entered the conservatory; and crossed the

small drawing-room. As I laid my hand on the door opposite, I heard a

few plaintive chords struck on the piano in the room within. She had

often idled over the instrument in this way, when I was staying at her

mother's house. I was obliged to wait a little, to steady myself. The

past and present rose side by side, at that supreme moment--and the

contrast shook me.

After the lapse of a minute, I roused my manhood, and opened the door.




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