Young Gates was standing with his arms outstretched toward Eliza
Parsons, who, a few paces away, had her back to the door of her own
chamber, from which she had evidently just stepped. She stood
motionless, looking curiously at the youth who confronted her.
"Lucy! don't you know me?" he asked, his voice trembling with emotion.
"To begin with," said the girl, composedly, "my name happens to be
Eliza. And as we've not been properly introduced I really don't see why
I should know you," she added, with a light laugh.
Tom Gates shrank away from her as if he had been struck.
"You can't be Lucy!" he murmured. "And yet--and yet--oh, you _must_ be
Lucy! You must know me! Look at me, dear--I'm Tom. I'm your own Tom,
Lucy!"
"It's very gratifying, I'm sure, young man," said the girl, a touch of
scorn in her tones. "If you're my own Tom you'll perhaps stand out of my
way and let me go to my work."
Without another word he backed up again; the wall and permitted her to
sweep by him, which she did with a gesture of disdain.
When Eliza Parsons had disappeared down the back stairs Beth drew a long
breath and approached Tom Gates, who still stood by the wall staring at
the place where the girl had disappeared.
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