One evening in October a nondescript sort of vehicle, the German makers of which could alone know the name, arrived at a small village not far from the banks of the Rhine, clattering into the yard of the only inn the place contained. A gentleman and lady descended from it, and a parley ensued with the hostess, more protracted than it might have been, in consequence of the travellers' imperfect German, and her own imperfect French. Could madame accommodate them for the night, was the substance of their demand. "Well--yes," was madame's not very assured answer: "if they could put up with a small bedroom." "How small?" She opened the door of--it was certainly not a room, though it might be slightly larger than a boot-closet; madame called it a cabinet-de-toilette. It was on the ground-floor, looking into the yard, and contained a bed, into which one person might have crept, provided he bargained with himself not to turn; but two people, never. Three of her beds were taken up with a milor and miladi Anglais, and their attendants. Mrs. Ravensworth--a young wife--turned to her husband, and spoke in English. "Arnold, what can we do? We cannot go on in the dark, with such roads as these." "My love, I see only one thing for it: you must sleep here, and I must sit up." Madame interrupted; it appeared she added a small stock of English to her other acquirements. "Oh, but dat meeseraable for monsieur: he steef in legs for morning." "And stiff in arms too," laughed Arnold Ravensworth. "Do try and find us a larger bedroom." "Perhaps the miladi Anglaise might give up one of her rooms for dis one," debated the hostess, bustling away to ask. She returned, followed by an unmistakable Englishwoman, fine both in dress and speech. Was _she_ the miladi? She talked enough for one: vowing she would never give up her room to promiscuous travellers, who prowled about with no _avant courier_, taking their own chance of rooms and beds; and casting, as she spoke, annihilating glances at the benighted wanderers. "Is anything the matter, Timms?" inquired a gentle voice in the background. Mr. Ravensworth turned round quickly, for its tones struck upon his remembrance. There stood Blanche, Lady Level; and their hands simultaneously met in surprise and pleasure. "Oh, this is unexpected!" she exclaimed. "I never should have thought of seeing you in this remote place. Are you alone?" He drew his wife to his side. "I need not say who she is, Lady Level." "Are you married, then?" "Ask Mary." It was an unnecessary question, seeing her there with him, and Lady Level felt it to be so, and smiled. Timms came forward with an elaborate apology and a string of curtseys, and hoped her room would be found good enough to be honoured by any friends of my lady's.