the elms in Kensington Gardens.

He had his hat on his head in the hall, and was in the act of putting
on his gloves, when there came a knock at the front door. The
hall-porter was there, a stout, plethoric personage, not given
to many words, who was at this moment standing with his master's
umbrella in his hand, looking as though he would fain be of some use
to somebody, if any such utility were compatible with the purposes
of his existence. Now had come this knock at the door, while the
umbrella was still in his hand, and the nature of his visage changed,
and it was easy to see that he was oppressed by the temporary
multiplicity of his duties. "Give me the umbrella, John," said Mr
Palliser. John gave up the umbrella, and opening the door disclosed
Burgo Fitzgerald standing upon the door-step. "Is Lady Glencora at
home?" asked Burgo, before he had seen the husband. John turned a
dismayed face upon his master, as though he knew that the comer ought
not to be making a morning call at that house,--as no doubt he did
know very well,--and made no instant reply. "I am not sure," said
Mr Palliser, making his way out as he had originally purposed. "The
servant will find out for you." Then he went on his way across Park
Lane and into the Park, never once turning back his face to see
whether Burgo had effected an entrance into the house. Nor did he
return a minute earlier than he would otherwise have done. After all,
there was something chivalrous about the man.

"Yes; Lady Glencora was at home," said the porter, not stirring to
make any further inquiry. It was no business of his if Mr Palliser
chose to receive such a guest. He had not been desired to say that
her ladyship was not at home. Burgo was therefore admitted and shown
direct up into the room in which Lady Glencora was sitting. As chance
would have it, she was alone. Alice had left her and was in her own
chamber, and Lady Glencora was sitting at the window of the small
room up-stairs that overlooked the Park. She was seated on a
footstool with her face between her hands when Burgo was admitted,
thinking of him, and of what the world might have been to her had
"they left her alone," as she was in the habit of saying to Alice and
to herself.

She rose quickly, so that he saw her only as she was rising. "Ask
Miss Vavasor to come to me," she said, as the servant left the room;
and then she came forward to greet her lover.

"Cora," he said, dashing at once into his sub