tonight he is mentally preparing the lecture he is to deliver presently
at Mrs. Blenker's. Dr. Carver, would there be time, before you start
for the Blenkers' to explain to Mr. Archer your illuminating discovery
of the Direct Contact? But no; I see it is nearly nine o'clock, and we
have no right to detain you while so many are waiting for your message."

Dr. Carver looked slightly disappointed at this conclusion, but, having
compared his ponderous gold time-piece with Madame Olenska's little
travelling-clock, he reluctantly gathered up his mighty limbs for
departure.

"I shall see you later, dear friend?" he suggested to the Marchioness,
who replied with a smile: "As soon as Ellen's carriage comes I will
join you; I do hope the lecture won't have begun."

Dr. Carver looked thoughtfully at Archer. "Perhaps, if this young
gentleman is interested in my experiences, Mrs. Blenker might allow you
to bring him with you?"

"Oh, dear friend, if it were possible--I am sure she would be too
happy. But I fear my Ellen counts on Mr. Archer herself."

"That," said Dr. Carver, "is unfortunate--but here is my card." He
handed it to Archer, who read on it, in Gothic characters:

+---------------------------+
| Agathon Carver |
| The Valley of Love |
| Kittasquattamy, N. Y. |
+---------------------------+

Dr. Carver bowed himself out, and Mrs. Manson, with a sigh that might
have been either of regret or relief, again waved Archer to a seat.

"Ellen will be down in a moment; and before she comes, I am so glad of
this quiet moment with you."

Archer murmured his pleasure at their meeting, and the Marchioness
continued, in her low sighing accents: "I know everything, dear Mr.
Archer--my child has told me all you have done for her. Your wise
advice: your courageous firmness--thank heaven it was not too late!"

The young man listened with considerable embarrassment. Was there any
one, he wondered, to whom Madame Olenska had not proclaimed his
intervention in her private affairs?

"Madame Olenska exaggerates; I simply gave her a legal opinion, as she
asked me to."

"Ah, but in doing it--in doing it you were the unconscious instrument
of--of--what word have we moderns for Providence, Mr. Archer?" cried
the lady, tilting her head on one side and drooping her lids
mysteriously. "Little did you know that at that very moment I was
being appealed to: being approached, in fact--from the oth