“Madam, I think it will be the kindest arrangement for all of us for you to go as soon as possible,” he replied, sadly, but firmly. At four o’clock that afternoon they were all _en route_ for London, where they purposed remaining until Mr. Coolidge should return from America, when they hoped to leave for the Continent and join Wilbur on his travels. But he did not return to them! Instead, they shortly received a telegram bidding them come home immediately, as he had found his affairs in such a confused state upon reaching New York that a failure seemed inevitable. Accordingly, the first of July found them a sadder but wiser family, once more domiciled in their home in New York City. CHAPTER XLIII ASPASIA COOLIDGE Six months later a cheerful group gathered in the breakfast-room of Lord Dunforth’s house in London. Brownie has taken the head of the table lately, as Lady Dunforth says she is getting too old to have the responsibility of it, but in reality she loves to sit and watch the lovely face beaming over the silver urns, and the dainty little hands as they flutter like white doves about the rich and glittering service. And truly the beautiful young wife, although she makes a lovely picture, presides with a gentle dignity all her own. Lord Dunforth has also resigned his place to Adrian, and he and his wife now sit side by side. He seems to grow more tender of his gentle companion of late, as if he experienced a sort of remorse for the secret barrier which has stood between them all these long years, and thus their lives are being filled with a blessed content, as, with their faces turned toward the setting sun, they calmly await the evening rest. They have several guests this morning at their table, and one has a very familiar, as well as a decidedly American appearance. It is Mr. Conrad, who has lately arrived in England to return a portion of that property which was intrusted to his care so many years ago. The other guests are his wife, and ward—Miss Emily Eliot. Brownie was delighted to receive a visit from them—it seemed almost to link her to the old life once more, for she still had a tender regard for her native land, although she never expected to make it her home again. Adrian had been giving him a dramatic account of his so-called runaway marriage, and they had just concluded a hearty laugh at his expense, when the butler entered with the mail-bag. “Now for the letters!” said the young man, and he unlocked the bag and began distributing them. “Aha!” he said, with a mischievous glance across the table, as he took up a heavy missive directed, in a round, bold hand, to his wife. “May I inquire, madam, what gentleman correspondent you have in America?” “When you get through inspecting the envelope, I will inspect the contents, and then, perhaps, I’ll tell you,” replied Brownie, saucily.