INGATH'S VOOER. 345 



could not enter one of the solitary chambers waiting 

 for her to come and stir their dead memories. 



But when the dusk of evening fell her mind became 

 more settled, and, supposing Mr. Nemo to be buried in 

 his sanctum, she crept into the garden for a few 

 moments. Stooping over her few, but fondly cherished 

 flowers, she would have plucked some, but suddenly 

 remembered that now she had no right to do so. 



As if guilty of theft Miss Ingath shrank back, 

 flushing crimson, and hurried into the house again, 

 murmuring, " Not mine now ; oh, not mine ! " 



She had not known that the recluse was watching 

 her from his window with grave, sad eyes, and a 

 nervous twitching of the lips. 



It is a curious fact in the natural history of woman 

 kind, that Miss Ingath did not take any prejudice 

 against Mr. Nemo. On the contrary, her sense of 

 justice led her to feel that he had been less than fairly 

 treated. He had paid far more for Orgert than Orgert 

 was worth, and he was putting himself, no doubt, to 

 much inconvenience that she might not be hurried in 

 any way. 



From an ordinary gentleman such civility might 

 have been expected, but from one who disliked ladies, 

 and no doubt had had some good cause to do so, such 

 politeness was exceptional, 



" I will not take further advantage of his generosity," 

 she said. "I will begin to-morrow to turn out the 

 things, and once I begin I shall soon get through." 



But the beginning was not very easy. 



