Ethelberta had proceeded
as far as the Red Lion Hotel, she turned towards it with her companion,
and being shown to a room, the two sisters shut themselves in. Lord
Mountclere paused and entered the White Hart, the rival hotel to the Red
Lion, which stood in an adjoining street.

Having secluded himself in an apartment here, walked from window to
window awhile, and made himself generally uncomfortable, he sat down to
the writing materials on the table, and concocted a note:--

'WHITE HART HOTEL.

'MY DEAR MRS. PETHERWIN,--You do not mean to be so cruel as to break
your plighted word to me? Remember, there is no love without much
jealousy, and lovers are ever full of sighs and misgiving. I have
owned to as much contrition as can reasonably be expected. I could
not endure the suspicion that you loved another.--Yours always,

'MOUNTCLERE.'

This he sent, watching from the window its progress along the street. He
awaited anxiously for an answer, and waited long. It was nearly twenty
minutes before he could hear a messenger approaching the door. Yes--she
had actually sent a reply; he prized it as if it had been the first
encouragement he had ever in his life received from woman:--

'MY LORD' (wrote Ethelberta),--'I am not prepared at present to enter
into the question of marriage at all. The incident which has occurred
affords me every excuse for withdrawing my promise, since it was given
under misapprehensions on a point that materially affects my
happiness.

'E. PETHERWIN.'

'Ho-ho-ho--Miss Hoity-toity!' said Lord Mountclere, trotting up and down.
But, remembering it was her June against his November, this did not last
long, and he frantically replied:--

'MY DARLING,--I cannot release you--I must do anything to keep my
treasure. Will you not see me for a few minutes, and let bygones go
to the winds?'

Was ever a thrush so safe in a cherry net before!

The messenger came back with the information that Mrs. Petherwin had
taken a walk to the Close, her companion alone remaining at the hotel.
There being nothing else left for the viscount to do, he put on his hat,
and went out on foot in the same direction. He had not walked far when
he saw Ethelberta moving slowly along the High Street before him.

Ethelberta was at this hour wandering without any fixed intention beyond
that of consuming time. She was very wretched, and very indifferent: the
former whe