I reserve my defence,” and remained stoically erect and grave while he was formally committed for trial and removed from the court. On the following day, however, he received two visits; the first was from a well-known Parisian barrister, who had been retained for his defence by Clarence Massey, and had come to receive his client’s instructions. The second was from Ella Millard, who was paler, thinner, plainer than ever, and who trembled from head to foot as her hand touched his. “Ella, my dear girl, you should not have come,” said he, more distressed by her grief than by his own plight; “I can’t understand how Sir Henry and Lady Millard allowed you to come.” “They didn’t allow me; I just came,” answered Ella in a shaking voice, with a little Americanism she had caught from her mother. “And I’ve given uncle Horace such a talking-to as he never had before, even from my aunt. I only heard about it yesterday; they kept the papers from us; but I’ve made up for lost time since.” She was neither tender nor gentle; perhaps she could not trust herself to be either. Her eyes wandered quickly from one object to another, never resting upon his for two seconds at a time; upon her face there was a fixed scared look, as if her muscles had been frozen at the moment of some fearful shock. She spoke very rapidly, and scarcely allowed him a chance of answer or comment. “It is very sweet and kind of----” he began, when she started off again. “Oh, no, I haven’t been sweet at all; I never am, you know. First I scolded papa and mamma for not letting us know; then, as I told you, I went for uncle Horace; and now I’ve come to finish by an attack upon you. You have been ungrateful and foolish towards us, George; you know we all love----” Her voice trembled, and she stopped. As for George, the sudden flood of warm sympathy and friendship was too much for him. He took her hand in a vehement grasp, and turned his back upon her. “And now,” she continued briskly, though her fingers twitched in the clasp of his, “we mustn’t waste time. I didn’t come to make a fool of myself, but to see if there wasn’t something I could do for you. Where is Nouna, George?” He turned round quickly, and looking straight into her eyes, saw how well she read his heart, and pressed her hands against his breast with passionate gratitude. She drew them hastily away. “Well, well, tell me what you know, or what you want to know,” she cried, stamping her foot impatiently. “We’ve heard all sorts of stories already, of course.” “What stories? Yes, yes, tell me, tell me everything.” “Oh, that she ran away from you, and that was why you quarrelled with the man.” “And what did you think?”