Lotte turned her eyes upon him. There was light enough to see that his countenance much resembled Flora’s--save that it was, of course, manly in all its points--and his skin was browned by exposure to the sun. To say this, is to suggest that he was a very handsome, manly-looking young fellow, and so Lotte thought the more she looked at him. It was satisfactory to think that one so good-looking as he, had lifted his strong right arm in her defence, and she resolved, when an opportunity offered, to work some little article of use, and present him with it, in testimony of her appreciation of his valour. She felt a pleasure, too, in telling him that his father had become the possessor of a large fortune; that he lived in a fine house; that Flora was now a lady; and that he would become a grand gentleman. Mark listened with evident surprise, but with no display of emotion, and he took down the address of the house in the Regent’s Park tenanted by his father, that he might proceed there that night, or rather immediately on reaching Oxford Street. Beyond this point, Lotte would not permit her brother to accompany her. “Ask me not wherefore, Charley,” she said; “you know my address, and when you come to see me tomorrow or next day, at furthest, then I will explain much that may seem strange and inexplicable to you now.” Charley Clinton had too much confidence in his sister to ask a question, or to press his desire to accompany her to her lodging. He, therefore, bade her good night, without putting a question respecting, or making any allusion to, the young lady who was with her, and he promised to call upon her, not on the following day, but the day succeeding. Mark Wilton also took his farewell of her, but now that the light fell full upon her face and he saw her bright eye, her cheek flushed with excitement, and the pure ingenuous expression upon her pretty face, he mentally promised himself that the parting now taking place should not be for long.