It was now about four o'clock; and, with feelings difficult to describe, but to which he was resolved not to yield, Chandos Winslow proceeded to call upon several of his most intimate acquaintances. It required an effort to knock at the first door. The feeling of having stood in the felon's dock, was strong upon him. The uncertainty of the reception he should meet with; the knowledge that, with a mind which: has the slightest tincture of vulgarity--that is to say, with nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine persons out of every million--an accusation, however false, leaves some stain; he felt irritable and impatient beforehand, at the idea of being treated coldly at a moment when he felt that society owed him something, for having inflicted on him undeserved hardships. Luckily he had chosen well in the person whom he had selected for his first visit. She was the widow of a nobleman who had been distinguished for many virtues himself; and she was mild, kind, and charitable, though not without a certain degree of dignified stateliness, which showed that she felt her high station, without the slightest touch of pride. She received her young visitor almost as if nothing had happened. I say, almost, because there was the least possible difference in the warmth of her reception. It was more cordial, less tranquil, than it might have been under ordinary circumstances. She rose from her seat more quickly, held out her hand, and said, "Oh, Mr. Winslow, is that really you? Well, this is very kind of you, to call upon me so soon. Now sit down, pray, and tell me all about yourself, and what you are going to do; how long you are to be in London, and all." Chandos was soon at his ease; and he thought, "With some few friends such as this, I can afford to set the general world at nought." About twenty minutes passed very pleasantly; and then he rose to proceed to another house. His reception there was very different: the whole family was cold; and he stayed not ten minutes. Then again, at the next place, he heard the owner of the house, even after he had been admitted to the drawing-room, tell the servant from a neighbouring chamber to say that he had made a mistake, and that his master was out. When the man re-entered to utter the prescribed lie Chandos had his hat on his head, and was walking towards the door: "You may spare yourself, my good man," he said, bowing his head haughtily, "I have heard the whole," and he walked out of the house, never to enter it again. He made one other call. The lady of the house was at home, and delighted to see him. She talked to him incessantly of his trial, declared that it was the funniest and most delightful thing that had ever happened; and invited him to a ball, where all the great people in London were to be present. Chandos had no inclination to be exhibited as a felon-lion; and did not promise to go.