When Marston was gone, only Miss Perkins and Miss Wiseman, beside themselves, were left of all the party which had landed that morning. Lady J., with her usual kindness, asked them if they were bound for London; they said they were. Then said Lady J., 'You had better come with us; Trevanion and I have secured a first-class carriage to London, therefore your doing so will put us to no expense, and no inconvenience.' 'How can you say so!' whispered Trevanion. 'I reckoned on the privacy of our ride to say a great many things that I could not so well say before. But you, you wicked creature, have entirely spoilt my plan.' 'And did you not deserve it, sir, for planning anything so deliberately wicked?' And as she said this her eyes sparkled and danced with sportive malice, and Trevanion was more hopelessly in love than ever. In the meantime the two young ladies were profuse in their acknowledgments of Lady J.'s kindness and generosity. And so the party managed to get to London, where the young ladies made their adieux; and then Trevanion, having ordered a close carriage to take them to Eaton Square, looked exultingly at Lady J.; but she was peremptory, and then an open carriage was ordered. I am quite at a loss to guess why she was so determined as to these arrangements, but, nevertheless, the ride was very delightful. Trevanion held Lady J.'s hand in his all the way, and this rewarded him for everything! There was a sweet long pressure of hands ere the two parted, and the look of tenderness that stole from Lady J.'s eyes overcame Trevanion so entirely that he hardly knew what he was doing or saying. Lady Drummond sent out the most kindly invitation to Trevanion, which he did not accept, begging to be excused till the next day; he then bade adieu to Lady J., and as he did so felt more depressed than he had ever felt in his life, and as if all around was gloom; he felt truly that the sun of his life was gone.