The thought of the amazement that his appearance would cause her excited him wildly as he drove to Victoria. He could foresee the wonder in her eyes as he entered, the incredulity on her features as she heard what he was there to say; and the profoundest satisfaction pervaded him that he had resolved to say it. The comments that his world would make had no longer any place in his meditations; a fico for the world that would debar him from delight and censure what it could not understand! He had suffered long enough; his only regret was for the years which had been lost before he grasped the vivid truth that, innocent or guilty, the woman who conferred happiness was the woman to be desired. A criticism of his brother's recurred to him: "You hadn't a single taste in common!" He had not disputed it at the time; he was not certain that he could deny it now. But there was no need to consider whether their views were kindred or opposed, whether she was defiled or stainless, when she was the woman whose magic could transfigure his existence. He was conscious that this marriage to be approved by his judgment, and condemned by Society, would be a sweeter and holier union than their first, to which she had brought purity, and indifference. As the cab sped down Victoria Street, his excitement increased, and in imagination he already clasped her and felt the warmth of her cheek against his face. The hansom slackened, jerked to a standstill; and he leapt out and hurried to the booking-office. A train was at the point of starting. The sentiment of the bygone was quick in him as he found that he must pass through a yellow barrier on to the same platform to which he used to hasten when he went to see her in Lavender Street, Wandsworth. He had never trodden it since. A thousand associations, sad but delicious, were revived as he took his seat, and the guard, whose countenance seemed familiar, sauntered with a green flag and a lantern past the window. Victoria slipped back. It had been in one of these compartments--perhaps in this one--that he had first asked her to be his wife. How wet her cape had been when he touched it! A porter sang out, "Grosvenor Road," and at the sound of it Heriot marvelled at having forgotten that they were about to stop there. Yes, "Grosvenor Road," and then--what next? He could not remember. But memory knocked with a louder pang as each of the places on the line was reached. When "Wandsworth Common" was cried, he glanced at the dimly-lighted station while in fancy he threaded his way to the shabby villa that had been her home. He thought that he could find it blindfold. After this the line was quite strange to him; and now the impatience of his mood had no admixture and he trembled with eagerness to gain his destination.