harge of her
and console her, and be kind to her. What I fear most is that she may
blame herself--she may fancy that she is some how responsible--"

"It is I, surely, who must take, that blame on myself," said Lord
Evelyn, sadly. "But for me, how could you have been led into joining the
Society?"

"Neither she nor you have anything to reproach yourselves with. What
was my life worth to me when I joined? Then for a time I saw a vision of
what may yet be in the world--of what will be, please God; and what does
it matter if one here or one there falls out of the ranks?--the great
army is moving on: and for a time there were others visions. Poor
Natalie!--I am glad her mother has come to her at last."

He rose.

"I wish I could offer you a bed here," Lord Evelyn said.

"I have a great many things to arrange to-night," he answered, simply.
"Perhaps I may not be able to get to bed at all."

Lord Evelyn hesitated.

"When can I see you to-morrow?" he said at length. "You know I am going
to Lind the first thing in the morning."

Brand stopped abruptly.

"I must absolutely forbid your doing anything of the kind," said he,
firmly. "This is a matter of the greatest secrecy; there is to be no
talking about it; I have given you some hint, and the same I shall give
to Natalie, and there an end." He added, "Your interference would be
quite useless, Evelyn. The matter is not in Lind's hands."

He bade his friend good-night.

"Thank you for letting me bore you so long. You see, I expected talking
over the thing would drive off that first shock of nervousness. Now I am
going to play the part of Karl Sand with indifference. When you hear of
me, you will think I must have been brought up by the Tugendbund or the
Carbonari, or some of those societies."

This cheerfulness did not quite deceive Lord Evelyn. He bade his friend
good-night with some sadness; his mind was not at ease about the share
he attributed to himself in this calamity.

When Brand reached his chambers in Buckingham Street there was a small
parcel awaiting him. He opened it, and found a box with, inside, a tiny
nosegay of sweet-smelling flowers. These were not half as splendid as
those he had got the previous afternoon for the rooms in Hans Place, but
there was something accompanying them that gave them sufficient value.
It was a strip of paper, and on it was written--"From Natalie and from
Natalushka, with more than thanks."

"I will carry them with me," he