me scratch annoyed him; that a little time, with ointment and a
plaister, will give him back his body as sound as ever; but then
after a short space it becomes known to him that a deadly gangrene is
affecting his very life; so will it be with a girl's heart. She did
not yet,--not yet,--tell herself that half-a-dozen gentle words, that
two or three soft glances, that a touch of a hand, the mere presence
of a youth whose comeliness was endearing to the eye, had mastered
and subdued all that there was of Marion Fay. But it was so. Not for
a moment did her mind run away, as they were taken homewards, from
the object of her unconscious idolatry. Had she behaved ill?--that
was her regret! He had been so gracious;--that was her joy! Then
there came a pang from the wound, though it was not as yet a pang as
of death. What right had such a one as she to receive even an idle
word of compliment from a man such as was Lord Hampstead? What could
he be to her, or she to him? He had his high mission to complete, his
great duties to perform, and doubtless would find some noble lady
as a fit mother for his children. He had come across her path for
a moment, and she could not but remember him for ever! There was
something of an idea present to her that love would now be beyond her
reach. But the pain necessarily attached to such an idea had not as
yet reached her. There came something of a regret that fortune had
placed her so utterly beyond his notice;--but she was sure of this,
sure of this, that if the chance were offered to her, she would not
mar his greatness by accepting the priceless boon of his love. But
why,--why had he been so tender to her? Then she thought of what were
the ways of men, and of what she had heard of them. It had been bad
for her to go abroad thus with her poor foolish softness, with her
girl's untried tenderness,--that thus she should be affected by the
first chance smile that had been thrown to her by one of those petted
darlings of Fortune! And then she was brought round to that same
resolution which was at the moment forming itself in her father's
mind;--that it would have been better for her had she not allowed
herself to be taken to Hendon Hall. Then they were in Paradise Row,
and were put down at their separate doors with but few words of
farewell to each other.

"They have just come home," said Clara Demijohn, rushing into her
mother's bedroom. "You'll find it is quite true. They have been
dining with th