I beg your pardon, Miss Gwynne, but it will put ideas into her head above her station.' 'We shall be very quiet.' The conversation was interrupted by the sudden entrance of Rowland.

He drew back on seeing Miss Gwynne, and bowed, as usual, profoundly.

She also, as usual, advanced and held out her hand.
'My father begged me to ask if you would come and dine with us on Wednesday,' said Miss Gwynne.
'Thank you, I am much obliged,' stammered Rowland, whilst a bright Hush overspread his face, 'I shall be very happy, if I am not obliged to be elsewhere.

Mother, poor Griffith Jenkins is dead.

I have been there all the night.' 'Dead! I had no idea he was so ill! Oh, Rowland, how did he die ?' 'Just as he lived, mother.