performed in peace, and Sam drew up shortly at the door of his
little home, the two front windows of which had been turned into
gardens, as far as the sills were concerned, with miniature green
palings, gate and all, the whole sheltering a fine flourishing display
of geraniums and fuchsias, reflected in window-panes as clean as hands
could make them.

"Why, this would do capitally," said Richard, taken by the aspect of the
place.

"Dessay it would, sir," said Sam, grinning; "but our rooms is let. But
come in, sir, and see the missus--she'll pick you out somewheres nice
and clean. But, hallo! what's up?"

Richard had seen that which brought the exclamation from Sam's lips, and
stepped forward to help.

For, about a dozen yards down the quiet little street, Mrs Lane was
supporting Netta, the pair returning evidently from a walk, and the
latter being overcome.

"Thank you--a little faint--went too far," said Mrs Lane, as Richard
ran up to where she was sustaining her daughter. "Netta, darling, only
a few yards farther. Try, dear."

"She has fainted," said Richard. "Here, let me carry her."

Before Mrs Lane could speak, Richard had taken the light figure in his
arms, and, guided by the frightened mother, bore it to Sam's door.

"That's right, sir, in there," said Sam, eagerly--"fust door on the
left's the parly. Poor gal!"

This last was in an undertone, as the young man easily bore his burden
in--finding, though, that a pair of large dark eyes had unclosed, and
were gazing timidly in his, while a deep blush overspread cheek and
forehead.

"There," said Richard, laying her lightly down upon the couch, and
helping to arrange the pillows with all a woman's tenderness. "You look
weak and ill, my dear, and--and--I beg pardon," he said, hesitating, as
he met Mrs Lane's gaze, "I think we have met before."

Mrs Lane turned white, and shrank away.

"Of course," said Richard, smiling. "My friend here, who drove me up,
told me you lodged with him."

Mrs Lane did not speak, only bowed her head over Netta.

"If I can do anything, pray ask me," said Richard, backing to the door,
and nearly overturning bustling Mrs Jenkles, who came hurrying in
with--

"Oh, my dear, you've been overdoing it--I beg your pardon, sir."

"My fault, I think," said Richard.

And with another glance at the great dark eyes following him, he backed
into the passage--this time upon Sam, who had carried in the
portmanteau.

"If you