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 repeated, with emphasis, "I'll warrant I can give you
every bit of our talk."

"I have seen many men since, but never have I met your equal for a most
damnable frankness, Richard Carvel. Even Jack, here, is not half so
blunt and uncompromising. But you took my fancy--God knows why!--that
first night I clapped eyes on you in Arlington Street, and I loved you
when your simplicity made us that speech at Brooks's Club. So you have
not forgotten that morning under the trees, when the dew was on the
grass. Faith, I am glad of it. What children we were!" he said, and
sighed.

"And yet you were a Junior Lord," I said.

"Which is more than I am now," he answ