Madam sat staring. Could she prevent it, was her first thought. It was very undesirable that they should come. Ellen Adair was there; and besides, after this new and startling revelation of Richard's, madam was not quite sure that she might continue to crowd the house with guests. But there was no help for it; ransack her fertile brain as she would, there seemed no possible chance of preventing the travellers' arrival. Had she known where a message would reach them, she might have telegraphed that the Hall was on fire, or that fever had broken out in it. Mrs. North was not the first who has had to make the best of an unlucky combination of circumstances. She gave orders to her servants to prepare for the reception of the guests: and descended to the luncheon-table with a smooth face, saying not a word. Richard was out, or she might have told him: he was so busy over the reopening of those works of his, that he was now only at home night and morning. It happened, however that on this day he had occasion to come home for some deed that lay in his desk. It was about four o'clock in the afternoon--a showery one--and Richard North was quickly approaching the gates of the Hall, when he saw some one approaching them more leisurely from the other side. It was Mary Dallory. He did not know she had returned; and his face had certainly a flush of surprise on it, as he lifted his hat to her. "I arrived home yesterday evening," she said, smilingly. "Forced into it. Dear old Frank wrote the most woebegone letters imaginable, saying he could not get on without me." "Did you come from Sir Nash Bohun's?" asked Richard. "Sir Nash Bohun's! No. What put that into your head? I was at Sir Nash Bohun's for a few days some ages ago--weeks, at any rate, as it seems to me--but not lately. I have been with my aunt in South Audley Street." "London must be lively at this time," remarked Richard rather sarcastically; as if, like Francis Dallory, he resented her having stayed there. "Very. It _is_, for the tourists and people have all come back to it. I suppose you would have liked me to remain here and catch the fever. Very kind of you! I was going in to see your father." He glanced at her with a half smile, and held out his arm after passing the gates. "I am not sure that I shall take it. You have been quite rude, Mr. Richard." Richard dropped it at once, begging her pardon. His air was that of a man who has received a disagreeable check. But Miss Dallory had only been joking; she glanced up at him, and a hot flush of vexation overspread her face. Richard held it out once more, and they began talking as they went along. Rain was beginning to fall, and he put up his umbrella. He told her of Mrs. Cumberland's death. She had not heard of it, and expressed her sorrow. But she had had no acquaintance with Mrs. Cumberland, could not remember to have seen her more than once, and that was more than three years ago: and the subject passed.