not looking round, but only looking close at his watch, "we have just two minutes more." Then he went on writing.
Esther did not speak, but Felix could not help observing now that her hands had turned to a deathly coldness, and that she was trembling. He believed, he knew, that whatever prospects she had, this feeling was for his sake. An overpowering impulse from mingled love, gratitude, and anxiety, urged him to say—
"I had a horrible struggle, Esther. But you see I was right. There was a fitting lot in reserve for you. But remember you have cost a great price—don't throw what is precious away. I shall want the news that you have a happiness worthy of you."
Esther felt too miserable for tears to come. She looked helplessly at Felix for a moment, then took her hands from his, and, turning away mutely, walked dreamily towards her father, and said, "Father, I am ready—there is no more to say."
She turned back again, towards the chair where her bonnet lay, with a face quite corpse-like above her dark garment.
"Esther!"
She heard Felix say the word, with an en-
