abstracted wanderer.
Grand old trees, romantic walks, delicious flowers, had no existence for
him; the whole world was one great, hueless, formless void, in which he
beheld nothing but the spectral image mirrored in his own soul.

He had decided not to pay his visit until after one o'clock; but, before
the sun reached its meridian, he absolved himself from the propriety of
waiting, and, with rapid steps, once more took his way to Lady Langdon's
residence.

The door was opened by a solemn footman.

"Is Lady Vivian at home?"

"Not at home, sir."

"Is Mademoiselle de Gramont--I mean the young lady who accompanied Lady
Vivian--at home?"

"Not at home, sir."

"Can you tell me when I shall be likely to find them?"

"Her ladyship gave no orders on the subject, sir."

Maurice stood perplexed, and hesitating.

"Your card, if you please, sir," suggested the demure domestic.

"No, I will call again by and by."

Maurice walked directly back to the park. His suspense was intolerable;
he could only endure it for another hour, and then returned to Lady
Langdon's.

The same staid attendant reappeared at his knock.

"Has Lady Vivian returned?"

"Not returned, sir."

"Can you tell me when I may depend upon seeing her? I call upon a matter
of great importance."

The stately footman looked as though he were pondering upon the
propriety of making any satisfactory answer to this question.

Maurice repeated the inquiry with such an anxious intonation, such a
perturbed air, that the stolid domestic, accustomed to behold only the
conventional composure which allows no pulse to betray its beating, was
moved out of the even tenor of his way by astonishment.

"Lady Vivian went with my lady and a large party to Hampton Court. Their
ladyships will probably spend the day."

"The day!" exclaimed Maurice, in an accent of consternation.

The footman evidently thought that he had proffered more than sufficient
information, and made a dignified attempt to put a close to the
interview, by extending his hand, and saying, "I will see that your card
reaches her ladyship."

"No, there is no need of my leaving a card: I shall return. At what hour
does Lady Langdon dine?"

"At seven, sir."

"I will take the liberty of calling after dinner."

The footman looked as though he decidedly thought it was a liberty, and
Maurice turned slowly away from the closing door.

What could be done to shorten the endless hours that stretched the