n, that she herself should bring the answer to this
message that had been sent her--stepping out of the dream-world in which
she had disappeared with her lover? And how would she look as she came
along this narrow passage? Like the arch coquette of this land of
gaslight and glowing colors? or like the pale, serious, proud girl who
was fond of sketching the elm at Prince's Gate? A strange nervousness
possessed him as he thought she might suddenly appear. He did not listen
to the talk between Colonel Ross and Mr. Ogilvie. He did not notice that
this small party was obviously regarded as being in the way by the
attendants who were putting out the lights and shutting the doors of the
boxes. Then a man came along.

"Miss White's compliments, ma'am, and she will be very pleased to meet
you at Charing Cross at ten to-morrow."

"And Miss White is a very brave young lady to attempt anything of the
kind," observed Mr. Ogilvie, confidentially, as they all went
downstairs; "for if the yachts should get becalmed of the Nore, or off
the Mouse, I wonder how Miss White will get back to London in time?"

"Oh, we shall take care of that," said Colonel Ross. "Unless there is a
good steady breeze we sha'n't go at all; we shall spend a happy day at
Rosherville, or have a look at the pictures at Greenwich. We sha'n't get
Miss White into trouble. Good-bye, Ogilvie. Good-bye, Sir Keith.
Remember ten o'clock, Charing Cross."

They stepped into their carriage and drove off.

"Now," said Macleod's companion, "are you tired?"

"Tired? I have done nothing all day."

"Shall we get into a hansom and drive along to Lady Beauregard's?"

"Certainly, if you like. I suppose they won't throw you over again?"

"Oh no," said Mr. Ogilvie, as he once more adventured his person in a
cab. "And I can tell you it is much better--if you look at the thing
philosophically, as poor wretches like you and me must--to drive to a
crush in a hansom than in your own carriage. You don't worry about your
horses being kept out in the rain; you can come away at any moment;
there is no fussing with servants, and rows because your man has got out
of the rank--HOLD UP!"

Whether it was the yell or not, the horse recovered from the slight
stumble: and no harm befel the two daring travellers.

"These vehicles give one some excitement," Macleod said--or rather
roared, for Piccadilly was full of carriages. "A squall in Loch Scridain
is nothing to them."

"You'll get used