“I began to write to MacPherson’s solicitors to inform them of their client’s death; the new life was so empty that I clung for as long as I was able to the old. As I wrote, the hall-boy came and stood at my elbow. “‘Please, sir, there’s a young woman asking to see you.’ “A young woman? Could it be Belle? so equipped for the day’s battle as to pass for young? “‘What’s her name? what does she want?’ “‘She won’t say, sir; she wants to see you.’ “I went out. Ruth was standing by the hall-door, plainly dressed in a dark coat and skirt, and a sailor hat, and holding a couple of faded red roses in her hand. “I looked at her incredulously, and all the world stood still. “She began, shyly and hurriedly,— “‘Oh, I don’t want to bother you if you are busy....’ “That made me laugh. “‘I am not busy,’ I told her. “‘Oh, then perhaps I could speak to you for a few minutes? somewhere just quietly, and alone?’ “I glanced round. The porter was standing there with a face carved in stone. “‘You can’t come in here,’ I said. ‘Where can I take you? Will you come to an hotel?’ “‘Oh, no!’ she said, shrinking, and I noticed her little gray cotton gloves. “‘At any rate, let us get away from here. Then we can think where to go.’ “We went down the steps, across Piccadilly, and passed into the Green Park. There I stopped, but she would not sit on the chair I suggested. She stood before me, her eyes downcast, and her gloved fingers twisting the stems of her roses. I bethought myself to ask her,— “‘How on earth did you find me, to-day of all days?’ “‘I came to ask,’ she answered, still in that shy, hurried tone, ‘whether they knew when you would be coming to London.’ “‘And they told you I was there?’ “‘Yes.’ “‘You came up from the Weald on purpose to ask that?’ “‘Yes.’ “‘But why?’ “She was silent. “‘Why, Ruth?’ “‘Because I wanted to see you.’ “‘To see me?’ “‘To tell you something,’ “‘What is it?’ “‘I can’t tell you here,’ she murmured. “‘Come to an hotel,’ I said again, ‘we can get a private sitting-room; we can talk.’ “‘Oh, no, not that. I suppose ... I suppose you wouldn’t ... I am sure you are busy.’ “‘No, no, on my honour, Ruth, I have absolutely nothing to do either to-day, or to-morrow, or the next day, or any day after that.’ “‘Sure?’ she said eagerly, raising her eyes for one moment to mine and then lowering them again. “‘Quite sure.’ “‘Then,’ with sudden boldness, ‘will you come down to the Weald with me? now? at once?’ “‘To the Weald? Of course I will, I’ll do anything you like. We’ll go straight to Charing Cross, shall we?’ “‘Oh, yes, please, you are very good. And please, don’t ask me any questions till we get there.’