aura, is it you?" said
Phineas, putting out his hand. Of course it was Lady Laura. While the
Duchess of Omnium and Madame Goesler were talking about such a visit,
allowing themselves to be deterred by the wisdom of Mr. Low, she had
made her way through bolts and bars, and was now with him in his
prison.

"Oh, Phineas!" She slowly raised her veil, and stood gazing at him.
"Of all my troubles this,--to see you here,--is the heaviest."

"And of all my consolations to see you here is the greatest." He
should not have so spoken. Could he have thought of things as they
were, and have restrained himself, he should not have uttered words
to her which were pleasant but not true. There came a gleam of
sunshine across her face as she listened to him, and then she threw
herself into his arms, and wept upon his shoulder. "I did not expect
that you would have found me," he said.

She took the chair opposite to that on which he usually sat, and then
began her tale. Her cousin, Barrington Erle, had brought her there,
and was below, waiting for her in the Governor's house. He had
procured an order for her admission that evening, direct from Sir
Harry Coldfoot, the Home Secretary,--which, however, as she admitted,
had been given under the idea that she and Erle were to see him
together. "But I would not let him come with me," she said. "I could
not have spoken to you, had he been here;--could I?"

"It would not have been the same, Lady Laura." He had thought much of
his mode of addressing her on occasions before this, at Dresden and
at Portman Square, and had determined that he would always give her
her title. Once or twice he had lacked the courage to be so hard to
her. Now as she heard the name the gleam of sunshine passed from her
altogether. "We hardly expected that we should ever meet in such a
place as this?" he said.

"I cannot understand it. They cannot really think you killed him." He
smiled, and shook his head. Then she spoke of her own condition. "You
have heard what has happened? You know that I am--a widow?"

"Yes;--I had heard," And then he smiled again. "You will have
understood why I could not come to you,--as I should have done but
for this little accident."

"He died on the day that they arrested you. Was it not strange that
such a double blow should fall together? Oswald, no doubt, told you
all."

"He told me of your husband's death."

"But not of his will? Perhaps he has not seen you since he heard it."
L