Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. The servants had left the room. She was always asking questions about her mother and supplying the answers. And you think I would marry you?’ ‘Why not? I am unworthy, eh? Because I am a servant. I should never have noticed the miniature at all, if it hadn't been for him. ‘Can you not open it?’ she cried. It’s true. She found she could do her microscope work all the better for being in love. But he tells them that I am a spy. Perhaps Ferringhall has pensioned her off. She shook her head, almost breaking a smile.
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