Mr. Morrison, who really had a little business, though not very much, had named two o'clock as the earliest hour at which he should be able to come to Half-moon Street for the purpose of escorting the ladies in a hackney-coach to the city; and it was during the hours that intervened between her breakfast and this time, that the active-minded Mrs. Barnaby determined upon making a private visit to Mivart's Hotel, in the hope of seeing Lord Mucklebury. She had quite made up her mind to the worst, as may be seen from the projects already maturing themselves in her brain, as the consequence; nevertheless she thought it was just possible that his lordship might be unable to resist the expression of sorrow in eyes he had so vehemently admired; and, at any rate, there was something so ... so touching in the idea of this final interview, that she could not refuse herself the satisfaction of making the experiment. Telling Agnes that she had a little shopping to do before their sight-seeing began, and that she would not take her, for fear she should be as stupidly fatigued as on the night before, she mounted to her bed-room, adorned herself in the most becoming costume she could devise, and with somewhat less rouge than usual, that the traitor might see how sorrow worked, set forth on her expedition. Having reached Piccadilly, she called a coach, and in a few minutes was safely deposited before Mivart's door. "Is Lord Mucklebury here?..." she inquired in a voice of authority of the first official she encountered. "Yes, ma'am," was the answer. "His lordship is at breakfast." "I must see him, if you please, directly!" "Is it by appointment, ma'am?" questioned the discreet waiter, looking at her keenly.... "His lordship is just going to set off, and is too busy, I believe, to see anybody." "He is not too busy to see me--I must see him directly!" "Is it an appointment?" repeated the man, in an accent not the most respectful. "Yes, it is," ... replied the unblushing widow. "Better call his own man, Joe," said another napkined functionary, attracted by the appearance of the lady. "You had better take this sovereign," said Mrs. Barnaby in a whisper. Apparently the man thought this advice the best; for taking the coin with such practised dexterity as hardly to make the action perceptible, he gave the lady a look with his knowing eye that said, "Follow me!..." and slid away among passages and stairs till he had marshalled her to the door of Lord Mucklebury's apartments. Being probably somewhat doubtful whether the office he had performed would be as gratefully requited by the gentleman as by the lady, he waited not to open the door, but saying, "There's his room," disappeared, leaving Mrs. Barnaby to announce her ill-used self. She was a little frightened, but still resolute; and, after pausing for one moment to recover breath, threw open the door and entered.