Dexie had gone to the parlor to get a book, and stepping to the bow window to draw the curtains, saw his well-known figure hurrying down the street.

“Goodness! here is Hugh coming back!  What has happened, I wonder?”

It took her but a moment to fasten the hall-door, and running to the kitchen, said: 

“Nancy, if anyone calls, do not admit them to-night.  You can say the family are out.  I am going to the upper hall to finish my book.”  Then, laying her hand on Nancy’s arm, she said in a low tone:  “Don’t let Hugh McNeil come in to-night, Nancy.  I have fastened the front door, so he can’t come in unless you let him.”

“Rest easy, missie; you shan’t be troubled if you don’t like.  But I mind he is off to the party with the rest.”

“I have seen him coming back, so I wanted to warn you.”

“All right, then.  Ye have had a hard day, missie; run off with yer book.  It’s meself that will see ye are not troubled the night by anybody.”

Nancy had been in the family long enough to know something of their affairs, and she took quite an interest in the doings of her favorite.  She saw more than she let anyone suppose, and her apparent stupidity was often put on as a “blind.”

With a book as a companion, Dexie was soon in her favorite retreat, for she had one cosy little corner which no one cared to dispute with her.  The recess at the end of the upper hall she had curtained off, and besides the few blooming plants on the wide window-sill it held an old-fashioned but comfortable sofa, a big chair and a tiny table.  It was here Dexie made up her housekeeping accounts, and performed such other duties as she could bring to her snug little corner.  It was the one spot in the house which she claimed as her own.

She had no sooner seated herself to read than the sound of the door-bell echoed through the house.  It was several times repeated before Nancy appeared to answer the summons, and Dexie’s heart seemed to leap up in her throat as she recognized Hugh’s voice.  But Nancy remembered the injunctions given her, and refused admittance, saying decidedly that the family were out; and when Hugh reminded her that Miss Dexie was at home, Nancy boldly said that Miss Dexie was not going to be disturbed by anybody.  Dexie gave a sigh of relief as she heard the door shut and Hugh’s step on the pavement below.  She turned to her book and was soon lost to all outside influences in her sympathy for the heroine of the story, when a slight movement of the curtain caused her to look up.  The book dropped from her fingers and she staggered to her feet, her face white, even to her lips.  Terror seemed to rob her of all power to move or speak, as she gazed into the face before her that was almost as colorless as her own.

With a quick movement Hugh dropped the curtain behind him and came forward with outstretched hands.

“You cannot keep me away, Dexie.  You refused to let me in at the door, but you forgot the secret passage in the attic.  My darling!  I did not intend to frighten you!” noticing for the first time how terrified she looked.  “I only came to ask your forgiveness.”