"I thought you would ask that. It is rumoured that he is shortly to be married to a young lady of good birth and with a fortune equal to his own. It is certain that he will not return." "Really!" said Nancy, who had now come to my aid, "how shall you be able to exist, dear Miss Peggy, without him?" "I? Oh, indeed, I am not concerned with Lord Chudleigh." "I mean, how can you exist when the principal subject for scandalous talk, and the chief cause of anonymous letters, is removed?" She blushed and bit her lips. "I think, Miss Levett," she gasped, "that you allow your tongue greater liberties than are consistent with good-breeding." "Better the tongue than the pen, dear Miss Baker," replied Nancy. "Come, Kitty, we will go weep the absence of this truant lord." "The Temple still remains--he! he!" said Miss Baker. This was a conversation at which I could laugh, spiteful though it was. I knew not that my lord was gone away, nor why. But one thing I knew very well. He was not gone to marry any one. If that can be called ease which was mostly shame, I felt easy, because ordinary jealousy was not possible with me. He _could not marry, if he wished_. Poor lad! his fate was sealed with mine. Yet, thinking over what might happen, I resolved that night upon a thing which would perhaps incense my uncle, the Doctor, beyond all measure. I resolved that should that thing happen which most I dreaded, that my lord should fall in love with another woman, I would myself, without his ever knowing who had done it, release him from his ties. I knew where the Doctor kept his registers: I would subtract the leaf which certified our union, and would send it to my lord; or should the Doctor, as was possible, propose any legal action, I would refuse to appear or to act. Now without me the Doctor was powerless. Lord Chudleigh went to town, in fact, to see the Doctor. He drove to his town house in St. James's Square, and in the morning he sallied forth and walked to the Fleet Market.