erstand?"

"Yes, Miss," replied the butter, with a deprecatory look at St.
Cloud, as much as to say, "You see, I can't help it," in answer
to his impatient telegraphic signals. St. Cloud had been very
liberal to the Porters' servants.

Mary's confidence had all come back. Relief was at hand. She
could trust herself to hold St. Cloud at bay now, as it could not
be for more than a few minutes. When she turned to him the
nervousness had quite gone out of her manner, and she spoke in
her old tone again, as she laid her embroidery aside.

"How lucky that you should be here! Look; I think you must be
acquainted," she said, holding out the card which the butler had
given her to St. Cloud.

He took it mechanically, and looked at it, and then crushed it in
his hand, and was going to speak. She prevented him.

"I was right, I'm sure. You do know him?"

"I didn't see the name," he said almost fiercely.

"The name on the card which I gave you just now?--Mr. Grey. He is
curate in one of the poor Westminster districts. You must
remember him, for he was of your college. He was at Oxford with
you. I made his acquaintance at the Commemoration. He will be so
glad to meet an old friend."

St. Cloud was too much provoked to answer; and the next moment
the door opened, and the butler announced Mr. Grey.

Grey came into the room timidly, carrying his head a little down
as usual, and glancing uncomfortably about in a manner which used
to make Drysdale say that he always looked as though he had just
been robbing a hen-roost. Mary went forward to meet him, holding
out her hand cordially.

"I am so glad to see you," she said. "How kind of you to call
when you are so busy! Mamma will be here directly. I think you
must remember Mr. St. Cloud--Mr. Grey."

St. Cloud's patience was now quite gone. He drew himself up,
making the slightest possible inclination towards Grey, and then,
without taking any further notice of him, turned to Mary with a
look which he meant to be full of pitying admiration for her, and
contempt of her visitor; but, as she would not look at him, it
was thrown away. So he made his bow and stalked out of the room,
angrily debating with himself, as he went down the stairs,
whether she could have understood him. He was so fully convinced
of the sacrifice which a man in his position was making in paying
serious attention to a girl with little fortune and no connexion,
that he soon consoled himself in the belief that