"Perhaps," said Macfarren; "but here is the door." He opened it, and ushered her into his little drawing-room as if she had been a queen. Marian turned and locked the door behind them. "To keep the mad woman out," she explained. Macfarren led her to a sofa. "Now," said he, "let us determine upon your immediate future. Rest assured, all that reverence and the tenderest respect can do for you shall be done." "I believe thee," answered Marian, turning her large clear gaze upon him. "I know not who nor what thou art, but this: thou art a gentleman; and that is enough." Macfarren bowed to the ground. "But it seems plain to me," she continued. "London, thou sayest, is but seven days from here by land." "By land and water," corrected Macfarren. "Well, it matters not," she said, impatiently, "so it be seven days. My father is there, and will quickly send a trusty person after me. Now, tell me, friend, who are the persons of chief consideration in this town?" Macfarren stopped to think a moment. He answered, not according to his own conviction, but merely by the general estimate: "The--the--Vanderbilts and the Astors, I presume." "Who are they?" demanded Marian. "Rich merchants," responded Macfarren. "That will do then," said Marian, decisively. "This, then, is my plan. I will go to the house of the first thou didst name. No doubt they will be pleased to entertain a daughter of the house of Winstanley. I will crave their hospitality until my father doth send or come; and in leaving I will present them with this string of pearls, which will do doubt delight their honest hearts, unused to the gold and glitter of the great. Thou shalt take me; so get thy sword and mantle and come." She was evidently determined; but at that moment a tremendous knocking came at the door. "Open! open!" he heard half a dozen voices shout, and "Murder!" He recognized the voices. There was the loud basso of the proprietor and the weak treble of the room-clerk, and there was Marsden, his particular chum, and Smithers, the greatest gossip of the hotel smoking-room, all bellowing in chorus, and the door must yield soon. A cold horror seized him. Marian, the woman he would have died to save--and then, strongly, strangely, the coward's longing to escape from it all possessed him like a devil; had he a pistol all would soon be over. In one moment was concentrated the agony of a lifetime. He thought he was going mad. He put his hands to his reeling head, and felt himself sinking by inches into black forgetfulness. * * * * * "I say, old fellow, you had a close call!" was what he next heard, in Marsden's voice. "Your clothes were smoking; the picture's burned to a crisp; and next time you fall asleep with a lighted cigar in your mouth just have the fire-brigade handy. This'll cost you in the neighborhood of five hundred dollars' damage to furniture and books alone." "Thank God!" was all Macfarren answered. LITTLE MISSY.