t what was he to do now? The girl whom he
loved had confessed her love for the other man,--that man, who in
seeking the girl's love, had been as he thought so foul a traitor to
himself! That he would hold himself as divided from the man by a
perpetual and undying hostility he had determined. That his love for
the woman would be equally perpetual he was quite sure. Already there
were floating across his brain ideas of perpetuating his name in the
person of some child of Hetta's,--but with the distinct understanding
that he and the child's father should never see each other. No more
than twenty-four hours had intervened between the receipt of Paul's
letter and that from Lady Carbury,--but during those four-and-twenty
hours he had almost forgotten Mrs Hurtle. The girl was gone from him,
and he thought only of his own loss and of Paul's perfidy. Then came
the direct question as to which he was called upon for a direct
answer. Did he know anything of facts relating to the presence of a
certain Mrs Hurtle in London which were of a nature to make it
inexpedient that Hetta should accept Paul Montague as her betrothed
lover? Of course he did. The facts were all familiar to him. But how
was he to tell the facts? In what words was he to answer such a
letter? If he told the truth as he knew it how was he to secure
himself against the suspicion of telling a story against his rival in
order that he might assist himself, or at any rate, punish the rival?

As he could not trust himself to write an answer to Lady Carbury's
letter he determined that he would go to London. If he must tell the
story he could tell it better face to face than by any written words.
So he made the journey, arrived in town late in the evening, and
knocked at the door in Welbeck Street between ten and eleven on the
morning after the unfortunate meeting which took place between Sir
Felix and John Crumb. The page when he opened the door looked as a
page should look when the family to which he is attached is suffering
from some terrible calamity. 'My lady' had been summoned to the
hospital to see Sir Felix who was,--as the page reported,--in a very
bad way indeed. The page did not exactly know what had happened, but
supposed that Sir Felix had lost most of his limbs by this time. Yes;
Miss Carbury was upstairs; and would no doubt see her cousin, though
she, too, was in a very bad condition; and dreadfully put about. That
poor Hetta should be 'put about' with her br