thing.

"I hate these sudden changes," said Lady Ball; "they are hardly
respectable. I don't think you should leave the house in this way,
without having given notice to any one. What will the servants think
of it?"

"They will probably think the truth, aunt. They probably thought
that, when they saw that you did not speak to me yesterday morning.
You can hardly imagine that I should stay in the house under such
circumstances as that."

"You must do as you like, of course."

"In this instance I must, aunt. I suppose I cannot see my uncle?"

"It is quite out of the question."

"Then I will say good-bye to you. I have said good-bye to John.
Good-bye, aunt," and Margaret put out her hand.

But Lady Ball did not put out hers.

"Good-bye, Margaret," she said. "There are circumstances under which
it is impossible for a person to make any expression of feeling that
may be taken for approbation. I hope a time may come when these
things shall have passed away, and that I may be able to see you
again." Margaret's eyes, as she made her way out of the room were
full of tears, and when she found herself outside the hall door, and
at the bottom of the steps, she was obliged to put her handkerchief
up to them. Before her on the road was a boy with a donkey cart
and her luggage. She looked round furtively, half-fearing, half
hoping--hardly expecting, but yet thinking, that she might again see
her cousin. But he did not show himself to her as she walked down to
the railway station by herself. As she went she told herself that she
was right; she applauded her own courage, but what, oh! what was she
to do? Everything now was over for her. Her fortune was gone. The man
whom she had learned to love had left her. There was no place in the
world on which her feet might rest till she had made one for herself
by the work of her hands. And as for friends--was there a single
being in the world whom she could now call her friend?

CHAPTER XXIII

The Lodgings of Mrs Buggins, Nee Protheroe

It was nearly the end of October when Miss Mackenzie left the Cedars
and at that time of the year there is not much difficulty in getting
lodgings in London. The house which her brother Walter occupied in
Arundel Street had, at his death, remained in the hands of an old
servant of his, who had bought her late master's furniture with her
savings, and had continued to live there, letting out the house in
lodgings. Her former mistress had gone