“Not at all; it was the princess--Mrs. O’Hara that was. She naturally felt indignant when she missed her spouse in the morning, too, and found out that my wife had wronged her doubly by running off with her husband. I don’t really think human nature could bear this tamely; and she came to me at once with her brother’s last letter, and also several written to him by Lady Teignmouth.” “Poor Norah! Was she much troubled?” “She was more angry than hurt, I really believe; and seemed comforted by the thought that she was well provided for, pecuniarily speaking. I fancy she had caught a Tartar, and was not sorry, on the whole, to be rid of him.” “If that is the case, he will avenge your wrongs.” “Exactly; it generally happens so. But I think we have given more time to this subject than it deserves--don’t you? When are you going to join Gwen?” “To-night.” “Then I may as well go with you, and make my peace with her, and be introduced to my heir--unless you have any objection?” “I shall be delighted to have you, and so will Gwen, I am sure; for she is, as you say, a generous soul. But, if you would not mind, I should much rather you followed me to-morrow.” “Very well; just as you like,” he answered, lighting a cigar. “Perhaps it would be better, as you can explain matters before I come. Somehow, I don’t want to talk of that unhappy business of mine more than I am quite obliged.” “Naturally,” said Sir Lawrence, and glanced at the clock. “I must go now,” he added, “or I shall miss my train. There’s Gwen’s address, and we shall expect you some time to-morrow.” “All right,” answered Lord Teignmouth; and the two parted with a cordial hand-shake. One was too happy, the other too miserable, to bear malice. It was dusk when Sir Lawrence arrived at Wintertown. He took a fly, told the man to drive him to within a few doors of Lady Gwendolyn’s cottage, then jumped out and made his way to the house under cover of the darkness. Opening the door cautiously, he stole in to find himself face to face with Phœbe, who was just going to light the hall lamp. She was so surprised that the candle she was holding dropped out of her hand, and for one anxious moment he thought she was going to scream and spoil all. But Phœbe was quite as glad to see him as he was to be there, and so, having recovered herself a little, she beckoned him, with a confidential air, into the dining-room, and said, under her breath: “My lady is asleep, sir. Shall I go and tell her you are here?” “Not for the world,” replied Sir Lawrence, who thought it would be pleasant to act the prince in the fairy tale, and wake his sleeping beauty with a kiss. But he stayed for a minute to ask Phœbe a few questions. “Is your mistress quite well?” “As well as any one can be who is always worrying and fretting, sir.” “We’ll soon alter that, Phœbe. There has been a miserable mistake, and I had no chance of explaining. But you may begin to pack up--we shall all be off to-morrow evening.”