Twas while they were
still in Arlington Street, and before Mrs. Manners and Dorothy knew. Mr.
Marmaduke goes posting off to Nottinghamshire, and comes back inside the
duke's own carriage. And his Grace goes to dine in Arlington Street for
the first time in years. Dorothy had wind of the trouble then, Charles
having warned her. And not a word would she speak to Chartersea the
whole of the dinner, nor look to the right or left of her plate. And
when the servants are gone, up gets my lady with a sweep and confronts
him.

"'Will your Grace spare me a minute in the drawing-room?' says she.

"He blinked at her in vast astonishment, and pushed back his chair. When
she was come to the door, she turns with another sweep on Mr. Marmaduke,
who was trotting after.

"'You will please to remain here, father,' she said; 'what I am to say
is for his Grace's ear alone.'

"Of what she spoke to the duke I can form only an estimate, Richard," my
Lord concluded, "but I'll lay a fortune 'twas greatly to the point. For
in a little while Chartersea comes stumbling down the steps. And he
has never darkened the door since. And the cream of it is," said Comyn,
"that her father gave me this himself, with a face a foot long, for me
to sympathize. The little beast has strange bursts of confidence."

"And stranger confidants," I ejaculated, thinking of the morning, and of
Courtenay's letter, long ago.

But the story had made my blood leap again with pride of her. The
picture in my mind had followed his every sentence, and even the very
words she must have used were ringing in my ears.

Then, as we sat talking in low tones, the door opened, and a hearty
voice cried out:

"Now where is this rebel, this traitor? They tell me one lies hid in
this house. 'Slife, I must have at him!"

"Mr. Fox!" I exclaimed.

He took my hands in his, and stood regarding me.

"For the convenience of my friends, I was christened Charles," said he.

I stared at him in amazement. He was grown a deal stouter, but my eye
was caught and held by the blue coat and buff waistcoat he wore. They
were frayed and stained and shabby, yet they seemed all of a piece with
some new grandeur come upon the man.

"Is all the world turning virtuous? Is the millennium arrived?" I cried.

He smiled, with his old boyish smile.

"You think me changed some since that morning we drove together to
Holland House--do you remember it after the night at St. Stephen's?"

"Remember it!" I