ct of universal curiosity and remark? Here is
night coming on as fast as it can. Don't let me bore you; only let me
ask once more--Where are you to sleep?"

There was no answer to that question: in Magdalen's position, there was
literally no answer to it on her side. She was silent.

"Where are you to sleep?" repeated the captain. "The reply is
obvious--under my roof. Mrs. Wragge will be charmed to see you. Look
upon her as your aunt; pray look upon her as your aunt. The landlady is
a widow, the house is close by, there are no other lodgers, and there
is a bedroom to let. Can anything be more satisfactory, under all the
circumstances? Pray observe, I say nothing about to-morrow--I leave
to-morrow to you, and confine myself exclusively to the night. I may,
or may not, command theatrical facilities, which I am in a position to
offer you. Sympathy and admiration may, or may not, be strong within me,
when I contemplate the dash and independence of your character. Hosts
of examples of bright stars of the British drama, who have begun their
apprenticeship to the stage as you are beginning yours, may, or may not,
crowd on my memory. These are topics for the future. For the present,
I confine myself within my strict range of duty. We are within five
minutes' walk of my present address. Allow me to offer you my arm. No?
You hesitate? You distrust me? Good heavens! is it possible you can have
heard anything to my disadvantage?"

"Quite possible," said Magdalen, without a moment's flinching from the
answer.

"May I inquire the particulars?" asked the captain, with the politest
composure. "Don't spare my feelings; oblige me by speaking out. In the
plainest terms, now, what have you heard?"

She answered him with a woman's desperate disregard of consequences when
she is driven to bay--she answered him instantly,

"I have heard you are a Rogue."

"Have you, indeed?" said the impenetrable Wragge. "A Rogue? Well, I
waive my privilege of setting you right on that point for a fitter
time. For the sake of argument, let us say I am a Rogue. What is Mr.
Huxtable?"

"A respectable man, or I should not have seen him in the house where we
first met."

"Very good. Now observe! You talked of writing to Mr. Huxtable a minute
ago. What do you think a respectable man is likely to do with a young
lady who openly acknowledges that she has run away from her home and her
friends to go on the stage? My dear girl, on your own showing, it's
no