On a burning day at the end of June, Lord Hartledon was walking towards the Temple. He had not yet sought out his friend Thomas Carr; a sense of shame held him back; but he was on his way to do so now. Turning down Essex Street and so to the left, he traversed the courts and windings, and mounted the stairs to the barrister's rooms. Many a merry hour had he passed in those three small rooms, dignified with the name of "Mr. Carr's chambers," but which were in fact also Mr. Carr's dwelling-place--and some sad ones. Lord Hartledon knocked at the outer door with his stick--a somewhat faint, doubtful knock; not with the free hand of one at ease with himself and the world. For one thing, he was uncertain as to the reception he should meet with. Mr. Carr came to the door himself; his clerk was out. When he saw who was his visitor he stood in comic surprise. Val stepped in, extending his hand; and it was heartily taken. "You are not offended with me, then, Carr?" "Nay," said Mr. Carr, "I have no reason to be offended. Your sin was not against me." "That's a strong word, 'sin.'" "It is spoken," was the answer; "but I need not speak it again. I don't intend to quarrel with you. I was not, I repeat, the injured party." "Yet you took yourself off in dudgeon, as though you were, leaving me without a groomsman." "I would not remain to witness a marriage that--that you ought not to have entered upon." "Well, it's done and over, and need not be brought up again," returned Hartledon, a shade of annoyance in his tones. "Certainly not. I have no wish or right to bring it up. How is Lady Hartledon?" "She is very well. And now what has kept you away, Carr? We have been in London nearly a fortnight, and you've never been near me. I thought you _were_ going to quarrel." "I did not know you had returned." "Not know it! Why all the newspapers had it in amongst the 'fashionable intelligence.'" "I have more to do with my time than to look at the fashionable portion of the papers. Not being fashionable myself, it doesn't interest me." "Yes, it's about a fortnight since we came back to this hateful place," returned Hartledon, his light tone subsiding into seriousness. "I am out of conceit with England just now; and would far rather have gone to the Antipodes." "Then why did you come back to it?" inquired the barrister, in surprise. "My wife gave me no choice. She possesses a will of her own. It is the ordinary thing, perhaps, for wives to do so." "Some do, and some don't," observed Thomas Carr, who never flattered at the expense of truth. "Are you going down to Hartledon?" "Hartledon!" with a perceptible shiver. "In the mind I am in, I shall never visit Hartledon again; there are some in its vicinity I would rather not insult by my presence. Why do you bring up disagreeable subjects?"