I was dreadful flustered, for though I was hid behind the wall that juts out there by the back stairs, I was afraid she would see me and shame me before Mr.Blake.But she passed right by and never looked up.

'There is something dreadful mysterious in this,' thought I, and I just made up my mind to stay where I was till Mr.Blake and the lady should come out again from the parlor.

I did'nt have to wait very long.

In a few minutes the door opened and they stepped out, he ahead and she coming after.

I thought this was queer, he is always so dreadful perlite in his ways, but I thought it was a deal queerer when I saw him go up the front stairs, she hurrying after, looking I cannot tell you how, but awful troubled and anxious, I should say.
"They went into that room of his he calls his studio and though I knew it might cost me my place if I was found out, I could'nt help following and listening at the keyhole." "And what did you hear ?" I asked, for she paused to take breath.
"Well, the first thing I heard was a cry of pleasure from her, and the words, 'You keep that always before you?
You cannot dislike me, then, as much as you pretend.' I don't know what she meant nor what he did, but he stepped across the room and I heard her cry out this time as if she was hurt as well as awful surprised; and he talked and talked, and I could'nt catch a word, he spoke so low; and by and by she sobbed just a little, and I got scared and would have run away but she cried out with a kind of shriek, 'O, don't say any more; to think that crime should come into our family, the proudest in the land.