"I do not think he will come unless he is asked," said Hampstead. Then the conversation was over. On the following day, at two o'clock, Lord Hampstead again started for Holloway. On this occasion he drove over, and left his trap and servant at the "Duchess of Edinburgh." He was so well known in the neighbourhood now as hardly to be able to hope to enter on the domains of Paradise Row without being recognized. He felt that it was hard that his motions should be watched, telling himself that it was one of the evils belonging to an hereditary nobility; but he must accept this mischief as he did others, and he walked up the street trying to look as though he didn't know that his motions were being watched first from Number Fifteen as he passed it, and then from Number Ten opposite, as he stood at Mrs. Roden's door. Mrs. Roden was at home, and received him, of course, with her most gracious smile; but her heart sank within her as she saw him, for she felt sure that he had come in pursuit of Marion Fay. "It is very kind of you to call," she said. "I had heard from George that you had gone down into the country since we had the pleasure of dining with you." "Yes; my father has been unwell, and I had to stay with him a few days or I should have been here sooner. You got home all of you quite well?" "Oh, yes." "Miss Fay did not catch cold?" "Not at all;--though I fear she is hardly strong." "She is not ill, I hope?" "Oh, no; not that. But she lives here very quietly, and I doubt whether the excitement of going out is good for her." "There was not much excitement at Hendon Hall, I think," he said, laughing. "Not for you, but for her perhaps. In appreciating our own condition we are so apt to forget what is the condition of others! To Marion Fay it was a strange event to have to dine at your house,--and strange also to receive little courtesies such as yours. It is hard for you to conceive how strongly the nature of such a girl may be effected by novelties. I have almost regretted, Lord Hampstead, that I should have consented to take her there." "Has she said anything?" "Oh, no; there was nothing for her to say. You are not to suppose that any harm has been done." "What harm could have been done?" he asked. Of what nature was the harm of which Mrs. Roden was speaking? Could it be that Marion had made any sign of altered feelings; had declared in any way her liking or disliking; had given outward testimony of thoughts which would have been pleasant to him,--or perhaps unpleasant,--had he known them? "No harm, of course," said Mrs. Roden;--"only to a nature such as hers all excitement is evil." "I cannot believe that," he said, after a pause. "Now and then in the lives of all of us there must come moments of excitement which cannot be all evil. What would Marion say if I were to tell her that I loved her?" "I hope you will not do that, my lord."