“I cannot study; I am sick,” she said; and, unheeding the angry remonstrance that followed, she left Wycliffe the day following the marquis’ departure, and told no one whither she was going. CHAPTER XXII A WIFE’S APPEAL Mr. George Sumner was agreeably entertaining a few of his friends in his handsome lodgings in London one raw, dismal night in January. But there was no suspicion of either cold or gloom in the luxurious rooms where these boon companions were making merry. A cheerful fire burned brightly in the polished grate; the candelabra were filled with waxen tapers, which, shedding their light over the closely drawn crimson curtains, cast a rosy glow over the whole apartment. Pictures hung upon the walls, some fine and beautiful, while others were not of the most chaste character imaginable; flowers bloomed and shed their fragrance from various costly vases; busts of marble and figures in bronze were scattered here and there, and the whole apartment bespoke extravagance and luxurious living. A table was spread in the center of the room, glittering with cut glass and silver, and heaped with a profusion of viands, fruits, and wines of a quality to tempt the daintiest epicurean taste. Four young men sat around this table, but for the moment suspending their operations upon the good things set before them, while they listened to a bacchanalian song from one of their number. A knock at this moment interrupted the singer, and Mr. Sumner, arising, went to answer the summons. A servant handed him a card and waited for orders, a look of curious interest upon his face. A scowl of anger clouded George Sumner’s face as he read the name which Marion had written with trembling fingers upon its smooth surface. He passed out into the corridor, shutting the door after him. “Where is the lady?” he asked of the servant, in a low tone. “In the anteroom at the end of the passage,” he answered, with a peculiar grin. It was not considered just the thing for a young lady to call, unattended, upon a gentleman at his lodgings, particularly at so late an hour of the night. “Very well; tell her I will be there in a few minutes,” George Sumner said, feeling exceedingly uncomfortable. The servant bowed and retired, while he returned to his company. As soon as he could make it come right, he said: “Boys, I’m in a troublesome fix; I’ve just received a summons upon important business, and shall be obliged to leave you.” Mr. Sumner, it seems, was in the habit of receiving “summons upon important business,” and there was now a noisy protest against his leaving them. “I must,” he said, with some show of impatience; “but you can stay and finish the feast; and, if I can possibly put off the unpleasant affair, or get excused, I’ll return right away.”