'Yes,' she said with a laugh, 'I must. I have no other means of getting back to town. But don't fear, Monsieur Martin; I will bring no disgrace upon you--you shall set me down as soon as we reach the outskirts of town, and I will go to Great Walpole-street by myself. When you get there you must write me the letter to this poor girl; you can give it to me as I come downstairs after my explanation with Mrs. Calverley.' When Madame Du Tertre walked into the drawing-room in Great Walpole-street, she saw from the expression of Mrs. Calverley's face that that sainted woman was considerably out of temper. Mrs. Calverley kept her eyes rigidly fixed on her work, and took no notice of Pauline's entrance. 'Ah, behold a pleasant woman,' muttered the Frenchwoman between her teeth. 'It is well that I have something to look forward to in the future; for the position here is not a particularly pleasant one, and is sufficiently hardly earned.--And how are you this evening, my kind friend?' she said at last, gliding into a chair by Mrs. Calverley's side. 'If you call me your kind friend, I am sorry I cannot return the compliment, Madame Du Tertre,' hissed Mrs. Calverley spitefully. 'I thought the arrangement between us was, that you were to be my companion, and endeavour to cheer me up with some of the liveliness of your nation, at least I know that was suggested by Mr. Calverley when he made the engagement; and instead of that, here I have been left by myself the whole day, without one creature to come and say a word to me.' 'Ah, my kind friend,' said Pauline--'for so you have always proved yourself to me--it is only in a matter of necessity that I would ask to be absent from your side. My poor cousin--she that I spoke about to you--is lying ill at a poor lodging. She has no friend in this wide London, does not know one creature beside myself; she has no money, she cannot speak your language, and is utterly helpless. I am the sole person on whom she can rely. I have been with her all day; it is from my hand alone that she will take her medicine and her drink; and I have come to ask you to excuse me for yet a little while longer, until she has reached the crisis of her malady.' 'It is nothing catching, I hope?' said Mrs. Calverley, pulling her skirts close round her. 'Ah, no; she is poitrinaire--consumptive, as you call it. I have been talking to her about you, telling her how nobly you have borne your present sorrow, and she is interested about you, my dear friend. She asked permission, when she recovers, to come and see you.' The coarse compliment acted as was intended, and Pauline received Mrs. Calverley's gracious permission to absent herself for as long as was requisite. As she came down the stairs she saw Martin Gurwood standing at the study-door. He stepped forward, and without a word placed a letter, addressed to Mrs. Claxton, into her hands.