Lord Henry Moorpark sighed with relief and pleasure, and soon after, fighting bravely to crush down her own agony of heart, Marie wrote a note to ask her aunts' permission for Ruth to come, and another to request her to be ready--and all the time with an intensity of sorrow striving with her wild and passionate love. She seemed to see in Ruth one who was to save her from the commission of a crime from which she shrank in horror. Ruth would be her protector. Ruth should be always with her, and she would learn from her sweet, innocent young heart how to school her own. The visit of Ruth to her cousin in Saint James's Square commenced during a temporary absence of Mr Paul Montaigne from his apartments at Teddington. Business had taken him to London, where he stayed a week, at the end of which time he walked through the chestnut avenue quietly, as of old, paused by the Diana pool to cast a few crumbs to the fishes, and then continued his walk, with his hands behind him, to the Palace, where he was met by Joseph, at whom he smiled benignantly, and was shown in to where the honourable sisters were seated at their embroidery. The hands of the fair Isabella were a little more tremulous than was their wont, consequent upon an encounter during a walk, when she and her sister had met Glen. The visitor was received most warmly, and heard glowing accounts of the happiness and brilliant establishments of the dear children. "Yes," he said blandly, "they must be happy. I had some thought of calling upon them when in town, but I bethought me that they must be fully occupied with their friends and the management of their homes, and that my visit, at present, might seem out of place." "I think it would have been a duty properly fulfilled--what do you say, sister?" exclaimed the Honourable Philippa. "I think it would have been a duty and a kindness," said the Honourable Isabella, making a couple of false stitches before she found out her mistake. "I have been remiss," said Montaigne, with a bland smile, as he bent his head. "How day by day one awakens more and more to the fact that human nature is far from perfect!" "Ah, indeed!" said the Honourable Philippa. "Yes, indeed!" said the Honourable Isabella, with a lively recollection of her thoughts regarding Marcus Glen. "I must try and remedy my failing, ladies, at my next visit to town. But how is the last lamb in this peaceful fold--Ruth?" He uttered this inquiry with his eyes half-closed, and a calm, sweet smile played the while about his lips till he heard the Honourable Philippa's reply: "Oh, she is in town! Lord and Lady Henry came down in the barouche the day before yesterday, and fetched her up to stay with them for some time." The warm, pleasant look in Paul Montaigne's face changed to one of a grim cold grey; the smile disappeared, his lips tightened, and he seemed for the moment to have grown old and careworn. Even his voice changed, and sounded hard and harsh as he said quickly: