The course she adopted in undertaking this delicate and difficult enterprise was worthy alike of her courage and her good sense. She had never met Mr. Dalrymple, and she had no definite knowledge of his character, only an impression that he was "wild"--a man of the world, with a touch of the libertine and the vagabond about him--and that he was also undoubtedly a gentleman, with some of the finer qualities that are the heritage of good blood. Yet she determined that she would abjure all schemes and artifices, and see him herself before there was time for anything to happen, and appeal to his honour and generosity on behalf of the woman he loved--upon whose peace it seemed evident to her he had some selfish if not distinctly evil designs. "He has come to town in consequence of Mr. Gordon's representations, of course, for no other purpose than to see her," the little woman said to herself the moment she heard of his arrival; "and if he does see her, nothing but trouble can possibly come of it." So she determined to prevent trouble if possible, and this seemed to her the proper way. She prepared herself for the interview on the Thursday morning, without any sense of having undertaken a difficult task. When he arrived she was discussing dinner with her cook, and she walked from the larder to the drawing-room with a very grave and thoughtful face, but feeling perfectly serene and self-possessed. He was standing in the middle of the room, facing the door, with his hat in his hand when she entered. He looked immensely tall, and stiff, and stately. There was an air of impracticable independence in his attitude, and in the distant dignity of his salutation that disconcerted her a little. He was wonderfully like his photograph she thought, and yet he was a much more imposing personage than she had bargained for. "Oh, Mr. Dalrymple--it was so kind of you to come," she said, in her quick, easy way. "I must apologise for summoning you in such a very informal manner, but--a--won't you sit down?" She dropped into one of her soft, low chairs; and her visitor seated himself at a little distance from her, not hesitatingly, but with just so much deliberation as indicated a protest against the prolongation of the interview. "I understood from your note that you wished to see me upon some business," he suggested gravely. "I did," she replied, feeling unaccountably flustered. "Perhaps you will think it rather impertinent of me--perhaps it is a liberty for me to take--but the fact is I have so deep an interest in my cousin's welfare--she is so very dear to me--I must plead that as my excuse----" "You are speaking of Mrs. Kingston?" he interposed in the same cool and distant manner, "I hope she is quite well? I have not had the pleasure of seeing her since her marriage."