welcome, when the negro admitted another guest, whom
Rosita received much as she had done his predecessor, only with less
curiosity. Mary rose, blushing deeply, and crossing the room held out
her hand, and said simply, but with something of apology, 'Mr. Ward,
this is Lord Fitzjocelyn.'

Mr. Ward raised his eyes to her face for one moment. 'I understand,'
he said, in a low, not quite steady voice. 'It is well. Will you
present me?' he added, as though collecting himself like a brave man
after a blow.

'Here is my kindest friend,' she said, as she conducted him to Louis,
and they shook hands in the very manner she wished to see, learning
mutual esteem from her tone and each other's aspect.

'I am sorry to have intruded,' said Mr. Ward. 'I came in the hope that
you might find some means of making me of use to you; and, perhaps, I
may yet be of some assistance to Lord Fitzjocelyn.'

He enforced the proposal with so much cordiality, and showed so plainly
that it would be his chief pleasure and consolation to do anything for
Miss Ponsonby, that they did not scruple to take him into their
counsels; and Mary looked on with exulting wonder at the ability and
readiness displayed by Louis in the discussion of business details,
even with a man whose profession they were. In remote space, almost
beyond memory, save to enhance the present joy of full reliance, was
the old uncomfortable sense of his leaning too much upon her. To have
him acting and thinking for her, and with one touch carrying off her
whole burthen of care, was comfort and gladness beyond what she had
even devised in imagination. The only drawback, besides compassion for
Mr. Ward, was the shock of hearing of the extent of the treachery of
Robson, in whom her father had trusted so implicitly, and to whom he
had shown so much favour.

They agreed that they would go to the Consul, and concert measures;
Mary only begging that Robson might not be hardly dealt with, and they
went away, leaving her to her overwhelming happiness, which began to
become incredible as soon as Louis was out of sight.

By-and-by, he came back to the evening meal, when Rosita appeared, with
her uncovered hair in two long, unadorned tresses, plaited, and hanging
down on each shoulder, and arrayed in black robes, which, by their
weight and coarseness, recalled Eastern fashions of mourning, which
Spain derived from the Moors. She attempted a little Spanish talk with
El Visconde, much