The young lady was waiting for them in the shadow of the dingy portal. The night was bright and clear, and for some little distance Mr. Desmond walked by his old tutor’s side, with Lucy’s little hand on his arm. He wondered to find himself walking the obscure streets, through which Mr. Alford had mapped out a short-cut between the Oxford Road and Islington; he wondered still more to find Lucy’s hand resting so lightly, and yet so confidingly, on his coat-sleeve; and, above all, he wondered that it should seem so pleasant to him to be quite out of his own world. He walked about a mile, and then hailed a passing cab, and placed the young lady by her father’s side. He had made one very painful discovery during the walk, and that was the fact that Tristram Alford had been drinking, and bore upon him the stamp of habitual drunkenness. This, then, was the cause of that gradual decadence which had attended the tutor’s fortunes since the days at Henley. What a man to hold the fate of a daughter in his hand! What a helpless guardian for innocent girlhood! Mr. Desmond’s heart ached as he thought of this. “I may help them a little for the moment,” he said, to himself, “but if this man is what I believe him to be, there can be no such thing as permanent help for him or for his daughter.” “I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness to-night,” Lucy said, as she shook hands with the editor. “Indeed, you owe me no thanks. I only acted on the impulse of the moment. I was enraged by that woman’s impertinence, and that man’s sycophantic manner of treating her. Let me know if he makes any attempt to enforce your engagement. I don’t think he will. When are you likely to go to Market Deeping?” “On the thirtieth, I suppose. The theatre reopens on New-Year’s day. Shall we--will papa--see you again before we go, Mr. Desmond?” “Well, no; I fear my time--or--yes, you can breakfast with me some morning, can’t you, Alford? Say the morning after Christmas Day. Come to my chambers at nine, if that is not too early for you, and we can talk over Miss Alford’s future.” Tristram Alford accepted this invitation with evident pleasure; but Laurence, whose hearing was very acute, heard the faintest sigh of disappointment escape the lips of Lucy, as he released her hand. “Good-night,” he said, cheerily; “and all success at Market Deeping! I shall hope to see you when you come back to town for your engagement at the Pall Mall.” And so they parted--Mr. Alford and his daughter to enjoy the novel luxury of a cab-ride; Laurence to walk all the way to the Temple, in an unusually thoughtful mood. CHAPTER III. MR. DESMOND TO THE RESCUE.