"I fancy they are always in grief, by the frequent appeals to Margery. Lady Godolphin is kind to the wife. She tells Margery if it were not for my lady, she should starve." An arrival was heard as Maria spoke, and George rang the bell. It was answered by Maria's maid, but George said he wanted the butler. The man appeared. "Has Mr. Verrall come?" "No, sir. It is Mr. Godolphin." "When Mr. Verrall comes, show him into the Bank parlour, and call me. I wish to see him before he goes into the drawing-room." The man departed with his order. George went into the adjoining bedroom. A few minutes, and some one else was heard to come in, and run up the stairs with eager steps. It was followed by an impatient knock at Maria's door. It proved to be Isaac Hastings. A fine-looking young man, with a sensible countenance. "Have they gone in to dinner yet, Maria?" he hastily cried. "No. It is not time. No one has come but Mr. Godolphin." "I did such a stupid trick! I----" "Is it you, Isaac?" interrupted George, returning to the room. "I could not think who it was, rushing up." "I wanted to catch you, sir, before you went in to dinner," replied Isaac, holding out a letter to George. "It came for you this afternoon," he continued, "and I put it, as I thought, into the rack; and one for myself, which also came, I put into my pocket. Just now I found I had brought yours away, and left mine." "Yours is in the rack now," said George. "I wondered what brought it there." He took the letter, glanced at its superscription, and retired to the window to read it. There appeared to be but a very few lines. George read it twice over, and then lifted his flushed face: flushed, as it seemed, with pain--with a perplexed, hopeless sort of expression. Maria could see his face reflected in the glass. She turned to him: "George, what is it? You have had bad news!" He crushed the letter in his hand. "Bad news! Nothing of the sort. Why should you think that? It is a business letter that I ought to have had yesterday, though, and I am vexed at the delay." He left the room again. Isaac prepared to depart. "Will you stay and take tea with me, Isaac?" asked Maria. "I have dined. I am expecting Rose." "I am taking tea already," answered Isaac, with a laugh. "I was at Grace's. We were beginning tea, when I put my hand into my pocket to take out my letter, and found it was George Godolphin's." "You were not in haste to read your own letter," returned Maria. "No. I knew who it was from. There was no hurry. I ran all the way from Grace's here, and now I must run back again. Good-bye, Maria." Isaac went away. George was in and out of the room, walking about in a restless manner. Several arrivals had been heard, and Maria felt sure that all the guests, or nearly all, must have arrived. "Why don't you go to them, George?" she asked. The hour for dinner struck as she spoke, and George left the room. He did not enter the drawing-room, but went down and spoke to the butler.