thinking that a little work would help to pass the melancholy time, and recollecting that Helen had placed the materials for netting in her portmanteau, took the opportunity of fetching it whilst there was light enough for the purpose. There was some little difficulty, for the day was decidedly closing, but at length she found it, and was proceeding along the gallery, which, being carpeted, her foot was noiseless, when a gentleman opened a door a little before her, and, like herself, went onwards, but he walked slowly; therefore she checked her own steps, not wishing to pass him; he sighed deeply, and she stood still, but her eye was on his form: he was tall and very thin; his hair was full and dark. It was, it must be he; she sprung forward, laid her hand on his arm, and, turning away her glowing face, said, in a tremulous voice—
"Surely, surely, it is Arthur!"
"My own Georgiana! my sweet girl! I thank you for knowing me, but do not look at me, I beseech you."
"I cannot see you; it is getting so dark; but I am not afraid of thin people; my poor mamma is much more wasted than you are, I am certain."
At this moment a servant came towards them with a lighted candle in her hand, on which he rushed down stairs with a celerity which, at least, assured his anxious ladye love, that if thin he was
