unknown fellows to meet gentlemen, because
they sing a good song, or—"

The valet re-entered holding a salver on
which lay a note. "Lady waiting for an
answer, sir."

"Lady," said Sir Frederic, startled. "Young?"

"Well, sir, a youngish lady. Black dress,
thick veil, speaks nervous-like."

"She may go," said Sir Frederic. "I will
send an answer—or, stop! I may as well see
what she says." And, opening the note, he
read:

"'Though I have not the honour of knowing you,
I venture to ask for a few minutes of your valuable
time. I am a connexion of Colonel Chutney, and
trust you will receive me for his sake.'

"What has old Chutney been up to?" asked
the baronet of himself. "Show the lady in."

The servant left the room, and returned,
ushering in Mary Holden. As she threw
back her veil, and her eyes met those of the
baronet, she started as if inclined to run away,
and then exclaimed only half aloud: "Sir
Frederic Samperton? I am so surprised. So
sorry!"

"Sorry?" said Sir Frederic, insinuatingly,
"for the fulfilment of my most ardent hopes."

"Because," returned Mary, strong in her
purpose, and recovering herself, "I spoke to
you heedlessly and giddily the other day; and,
now that I come to you with an anxious heart,
you will not perhaps treat me with"—she
paused, blushed, and hesitated—"with the
gravity which——"

"What the deuce is she at?" thought
Samperton, while he interrupted her with much
deference of manner. "Whatever you do me
the honour of communicating, will receive my
serious and respectful attention."

"Thank you, thank you!" said Mary, much
relieved, her bright frank smile lighting up eye
and brow; "you put me at my ease." The
baronet, suppressing all signs of admiration,
handed her a chair, and taking one himself,
waited for her to speak.

"I hardly know how to begin," said Mary;
"but Mrs. Chutney is my first cousin;" Sir
Frederic bowed; "and more—a very dear friend."
An embarrassed pause. "Mrs. Chutney's name
was Bousfield. Observe, Bousfield."

"Ah!" said Sir Frederic.

"I see," continued Mary; "yes—the—the
wretched boy who forged your name to that
terrible bill is my cousin, Louisa's only
brother."

"No, really! What an unpleasant relative!
But I presume Chutney will pay up. I will
direct my lawyer to communicate with the
colonel before proceedings are commenced."

"Proceedings!" repeated Mary, half rising
in an agony of eagerness. "Oh, Sir Frederic!
Colonel Chutney must know nothing whatever
about it. Promise me this, on your honour."

"Really," replied Samperton, smiling, "I
should be sorry to disoblige you, but——"

"I do not ask you to lose the money," said
Mary, eagerly. "I only ask for time, and it
shall be repaid."

"I must say that seems extremely
problematical. What security have I? You will
excuse this business-like question. What security
can your cousin offer?"

Mary anxiously exclaimed, "Mine! It may
take a long time to pay it. I have been
calculating. I could manage to pay you fifteen
pounds a year, and," hanging her head rather
sadly, "that would take more than three years."

"And your worthless cousin would get off
scot free," said Sir Frederic, gazing at her with
admiration.

"Oh! I think he would help me. At any rate,
it would be better than to let his sister suffer.
She has borne so much; and now, when she
is just beginning to learn how to manage the
colonel, it would be sad to have her thrown
back; she does so want to make her husband
love her."

"What a remarkable woman!" observed
the baronet.

"Yes," returned Mary, with sincerity. "I
tell her she is very foolish; for the more you
want a man to do anything, the more he won't
do it."

"I see you are a keen observer."

"Oh! Sir Frederic, this may be play to you,
it will be death to me. Promise me a year's
time, at any rate," putting forward her hand
imploringly.

Samperton clasped it in both of his,
exclaiming, "I can refuse you nothing. Let us
trouble ourselves no more about this worthless
young scamp. We'll have a little dinner at
Richmond together, talk the matter over, and
take a stroll in the park afterwards! Richmond
Park looks lovely these May evenings. It does,
I assure you!"

Mary disengaged her hand, and went on without
deigning to notice Sir Frederic's invitation:
"Surely you are chivalrous enough to yield
time for paying this money, to save a timid
woman from blushing before her husband for her
next of kin!"

She had scarcely uttered the words, when Sir
Frederic's servant entered hastily.

"Colonel Chutney and Captain Peake coming
up, sir!" he said.

"By Jove, how awkward! My dear girl,
you had better go into the inner room; they
will not stay long, and you can escape after they
are gone."

Mary turned very pale. "No, no," she said;
"I had best be brave. Concealment looks like
guilt." She involuntarily drew back as Chutney
and his friend came in.

"Brought a friend of mine to ask your
parliamentary interest, Sir Frederic," began the
colonel. He suddenly stopped short as if
choked, and exclaimed: "Bless my soul! Mary
Holden? Why, what brings you here, Mary?"

"Urgent private affairs," returned Mary,
trying to assume a tone of badinage, while she
coloured to the roots of her hair. "And now
I have to thank you, Sir Frederic, for your