“How thoughtless of me!” he muttered, impatiently. “I meant to tell her all about Lord Carrol. He deserves to be set right with her, and she deserves—well, _nothing_ can be too good for her; but they knocked everything out of my head by their unexampled generosity. I will not go back to-night,” he added, after thinking a moment; “I will write her to-morrow the whole story.” But the morrow brought its busy cares and perplexities, and his resolution was forgotten. After that it was too late, for he did not know where to address her during her absence; and so Star still believed her lover to be false, and still mourned her shattered idol. CHAPTER XXXIII. “YOU ARE THE TRAITOR.” Mr. Rosevelt, Star, and Grace Meredith, with good-natured Mrs. Blunt to attend to matters of comfort, started on the day appointed for their Western trip, full of bright anticipations of the pleasures in store for them; and while they are gone, we will follow Ralph Meredith on his voyage across the Atlantic to the old world. Arriving in London, he transacted what business he had to do there, and then turned his attention, with what interest he could muster while his heart was still so sore from his recent disappointment, to the attractions which the great city afforded. He visited the House of Parliament, the Tower, St. Paul’s Cathedral, the National Gallery of Art, and many other points of interest, reserving Westminster Abbey until the last, as he wished to give plenty of time to this wonderful and magnificent structure and its countless curiosities. Upon his second visit thither, and while he was in the chapel of Henry the Seventh, with his guide, who was pointing out for his admiration the beauties of its architecture, the vaulted roof, with its magnificent carvings, and many precious relics gathered there, a clear, sweet voice suddenly broke the solemn stillness of the place by calling out just behind him: “Why, Archie Sherbrooke, do you know what time it is? Quarter past eleven, and we promised Lady Dunham that we would be back in season to attend the rehearsal at the Albert Memorial Hall with her.” Ralph had thought that he was the only visitor there that morning, and that silvery voice speaking that name, which he remembered but too well, gave him a shock which sent the blood coursing like fire through his veins. “It is later than I thought, Vivien; we must go at once, if we keep that appointment,” a rich, manly voice said in reply; and turning quickly to look at the speaker, Ralph saw a tall, handsome young man of perhaps two or three-and-twenty, with the head of an Apollo, the form of an Adonis, and having a keen, intellectual face, with frank, truthful eyes, and a pleasant, winning smile. The lady who accompanied, and who addressed him, was a year or two younger evidently, and _almost_ as lovely as Star, Ralph thought, although her beauty was of a different style.