"I don't think so. I put on very warm things. But, Marmaduke, I would like not to go down to dinner. Do you think my staying away would appear odd?" "Certainly not, pet. I will explain to every one. Bed is the best place for you. Promise me you will go to sleep as soon as you can." "As soon as ever I can. Oh 'Duke there is a quarter past chiming, and you not dressed yet. Hurry it will be dreadful if neither of us can show at the proper moment." "I won't be an instant," says 'Duke, and scrambles through the performance with marvellous rapidity, getting down to the drawing-room before the second gong sounds. I have accomplished my purpose, and will probably, nay, certainly, not be called upon to see the dreaded features of Sir Mark again. Early to-morrow morning, I trust, he will be beyond recall. It never occurs to me to think what hours the trains leave Carston, which is our nearest railway station. To-morrow, too, I shall explain everything to 'Duke: to conceal the real facts of the case from him, even for so short a time, grieves me sorely. I begin presently to fancy what they may be saying and doing down in the dining-room; and, so fancying, it suddenly comes to me that I am healthily and decidedly hungry. When going in for a violent headache, I certainly had not counted upon this, and laugh to myself at the trap of my own making, into which I have fallen, ill or not ill, however, dinner I must and will have. I ring the bell and summon Martha. "Well, m'm, are you anything better?" asks that damsel, stealing in on tiptoe, and speaking in a stage whisper. "I am," I respond, briskly, sitting up; "and oh, Martha, it is odd, is it not, but I do feel so awfully hungry." "No, do you really, m'm?" exclaims Martha, delighted, "that's a rare good sign. I don't hold with no appetite, myself. Lie down again, m'm, quiet-like, and I'll bring you up a tray as 'll tempt you, in two minutes. A little bit of fowl, now, and a slice of 'am, will be the lightest for you; and will you take Moselle, m'm, or Champagne?" "Moselle," I reply, feeling something of the pleasurable excitement of long ago, when Billy used to smuggle eatables into my chamber of punishment; "and Martha, if there is any orange pudding, or iced pudding, you know, you might---" "I'll bring it, m'm," says Martha. And presently I am doing full justice to as dainty a little dinner as Martha's love could procure. I sleep well, but permit myself to be persuaded; into staying in my room for breakfast. After that meal down-stairs, Marmaduke comes tramping up to see how I am. It is eleven o'clock; surely Sir Mark can have made his excuses and taken his departure by this tine. "Is he gone?" I ask, in a hollow whisper, as 'Duke enters my room. "Who?" "Mark Gore." "No, not yet. Did you _know_ he was going?" looking much surprised, and seating himself on the edge of the bed.