request you to make your wishes known at once, as I am quite exhausted, and am in great need of rest."
"Miss Leavenworth," returned Mr. Gryce, rubbing his hands together and staring in quite a fatherly manner at the door-knob, "I am very sorry to trouble you, but the fact is I wish to ask you"
But here she stopped him. "Anything in regard to the key which that man has doubtless told you he saw me drop into the ashes?"
"Yes, Miss."
"Then I must refuse to answer any questions concerning it. I have nothing to say on the subject, unless it is this:"—giving him a look full of suffering, but full of a certain sort of courage, too—"that he was right if he told you I had the key in hiding about my person, and that I attempted to conceal it in the ashes of the grate."
"Still, Miss"
But she had already withdrawn to the door. "I pray you to excuse me," said she. "No argument you could advance would make any difference in my determination; therefore it would be but a waste of energy on your part to attempt any." And, with a flitting glance in my direction, not without its appeal, she quietly left the room.
For a moment Mr. Gryce stood gazing after her with a look of great interest, then, bowing with almost exaggerated homage, he hastily followed her out.
I had scarcely recovered from the surprise occasioned by this unexpected movement when a quick step was heard in the hall, and Mary, flushed and anxious, appeared at my side.
"What is it?" she inquired. "What has Eleanore been saying?"
