I have a great deal to write, and yet it is only a few hours since I shut up this book and replaced the key on my bracelet. By a quarter-past three I was making my way through Grosvenor Square. Everything was misty and blurred, but not actually a thick fog--or any chance of being lost. By the time I got into the park it had lifted a little. It seemed close and warm, and as I went on I got more depressed. I have never been out alone before--that in itself seemed strange, and ought to have amused me. The image of Christopher kept floating in front of me; his face seemed to have the expression of a satyr. Well, at all events, he would never be able to break my heart like "Alicia Verney's"--nothing could ever make me care for him. I tried to think of all the good I was going to get out of the affair, and how really fond I was of Branches. I walked very fast; people loomed at me, and then disappeared in the mist. It was getting almost dusk, and suddenly I felt tired and sat down on a bench. I had wandered into a side path where there were no chairs. On the bench before mine I saw, as I passed, a tramp huddled up. I wondered what his thoughts were, and if he felt any more miserable than I did. I dare say I was crouching in a depressed position, too. Not many people went by, and every moment it grew darker. In all my life, even on the days when Mrs. Carruthers taunted me about mamma being nobody, I have never felt so wretched. Tears kept rising in my eyes, and I did not even worry to blink them away. Who would see me, and who in the world would care if they did see? Suddenly I was conscious that a very perfect figure was coming out of the mist towards me, but not until he was close to me, and stopping, with a start, peered into my face, did I recognize it was Lord Robert. "Evangeline!" he exclaimed, in a voice of consternation. "I--what, oh! what is the matter?" No wonder he was surprised. Why he had not taken me for some tramp, too, and passed on, I don't know. "Nothing," I said, as well as I could, and tried to tilt my hat over my eyes. I had no veil on, unfortunately. "I have just been for a walk. Why do you call me Evangeline and why are you not in Northumberland?" He looked so tall and beautiful, and his face had no expression of contempt or anger now, only distress and sympathy. "I was suddenly put on guard yesterday, and could not get leave. I am going to-morrow," he said, not answering the first part, "but, oh, I can't bear to see you sitting here alone and looking so, so miserable. Mayn't I take you home? You will catch cold in the damp."