only five readers to each copy," cried sanguine Amelius,
"and we appeal to an audience of two millions. What a magnificent
publicity!"

There was one inevitable result of magnificent publicity which Amelius
failed to consider. His advertisements were certain to bring people
together, who might otherwise never have met in the great world of
London, under one roof. All over England, Scotland, and Ireland,
he invited unknown guests to pass the evening with him. In such
circumstances, recognitions may take place between persons who have lost
sight of each other for years; conversations may be held, which might
otherwise never have been exchanged; and results may follow, for which
the hero of the evening may be innocently responsible, because two or
three among his audience happen to be sitting to hear him on the
same bench. A man who opens his doors, and invites the public
indiscriminately to come in, runs the risk of playing with inflammable
materials, and can never be sure at what time or in what direction they
may explode.

Rufus himself took the fair copies of the advertisement to the nearest
agent. Amelius stayed at home to think over his lecture.

He was interrupted by the arrival of Mr. Farnaby's answer to his letter.
The man of the oily whiskers wrote courteously and guardedly. He was
evidently flattered and pleased by the advance that had been made to
him; and he was quite willing "under the circumstances" to give the
lovers opportunities of meeting at his house. At the same time, he
limited the number of the opportunities. "Once a week, for the present,
my dear sir. Regina will doubtless write to you, when she returns to
London."

Regina wrote, by return of post. The next morning Amelius received a
letter from her which enchanted him. She had never loved him as she
loved him now; she longed to see him again; she had prevailed on Mrs.
Ormond to let her shorten her visit, and to intercede for her with
the authorities at home. They were to return together to London on the
afternoon of the next day. Amelius would be sure to find her, if he
arranged to call in time for five-o'clock tea.

Towards four o'clock on the next day, while Amelius was putting the
finishing touches to his dress, he was informed that "a young
person wished to see him." The visitor proved to be Phoebe, with her
handkerchief to her eyes; indulging in grief, in humble imitation of her
young mistress's gentle method of proceeding on similar oc