“Certainly. I shall remain in London, in order that I may be on the spot whenever you have any news for me. But I do not mean any of my friends to know of my whereabouts, and I shall not show myself either at Borton or Milworth until Lady Gwendolyn returns to me. In this way I hope to shield her from remark, and make it easier for her to take up her married life again without awkwardness or pain. We have been abroad for six months--let the world suppose we are still there.” “I think you are quite right,” Mr. Large said; “and I feel sure that your consideration will touch Lady Gwendolyn when she comes to her senses. You will bring me your letter soon, Sir Lawrence?” “To-morrow you may count upon it,” he answered; and then, with a polite apology for having taken up so much of the other’s time, Sir Lawrence departed. The next day he took the letter to Mr. Large’s office, and put it into the worthy lawyer’s own hand. Then he went back to his solitary lodgings, to wait for the moment when his wife should repent of her hasty desertion, and come back to him timidly, humbly, to find such a generous pardon ready for her, that she would never dream of leaving him again. * * * * * “I am sorry I came to the seaside now,” said Lady Gwendolyn languidly, to her faithful abigail, one morning; “the wind kept me awake all night.” “Yes, my lady, it does sound dolesome,” answered Phœbe. “They say there haven’t been such gales for years. A ship was wrecked close to the pier last night, and three poor souls drowned within sight of the coastguard.” “And could nothing be done to help them?” inquired Lady Gwendolyn, with a shudder. “No, my lady. The sea was running so high the life-boat couldn’t get out. It makes me feel quite sad to live where such things are always happening.” “Nonsense! Phœbe, you exaggerate,” exclaimed her mistress, almost sharply. “This is the first shipwreck we have had since we came here.” “But if we are to have one every three months, it will be cheerful, my lady,” answered Phœbe, who did not wish to make the best of the present state of affairs, and thought it very foolish of Lady Gwendolyn to live in a little cottage by the sea, with a couple of women servants to wait upon her, when she might have the run of two mansions, and twenty dependents at least. And it was terribly dull at Wintertown. Phœbe had been accustomed to a good deal of change, and not a soul came near Cliff Cottage, except the clergyman of the parish, and he never brought his wife. Lady Gwendolyn received him because his visits comforted her, and, moreover, she knew that he was too much of a gentleman to pry into her affairs, but she never allowed him to suppose that she was other than what she called herself--Mrs. St. Maur.