"But I hate to lose you even for an hour."

"Ah, be reasonable, and remember that it will be but for an hour or less
time. And when we meet again it will be to part no more forever--or
until death himself shall part us."

"I must submit, I suppose," said Craven, with a sigh.

"Submit? Oh, you crazy boy! You talk as if you were making some painful
sacrifice!" she answered, with a light laugh.

"It _is_ painful to let you leave me even for an hour."

"Bah! You'll be glad to be rid of me some of these days."

"Never!"

"Bah, I say again! Come, here we are at the reading-room. Stop the
carriage."

He did so.

"Let me out here and I will walk on," she said.

"Had you not better let me get out here, and keep your own seat and
drive on?" he inquired.

"No. I don't want the carriage to take me to the hotel. The distance is
short. I prefer walking. You had better dismiss it, and go into the
reading-room and amuse yourself while waiting for me," she said.

He acquiesced, and she got out and walked rapidly on toward the Blank
House.

With her thick veil let down, she slipped in through the ladies'
entrance with some visitors that just happened to be going there.

She hurried upstairs to her own rooms and unlocked the door of the
private parlor.

All within the place was just as she had left it two hours before.

She opened the window-shutters to let in the daylight, and then she went
and listened at the door communicating with Alden Lytton's room.

At first all was still. But presently she heard a step about the room,
and soon after other motions that proved the inmate to be busy at his
toilet.

"He is up and dressing himself. I have not returned one minute too
soon," she said, as she seated herself in an easy-chair near the window.

The next moment the door opened and Alden Lytton entered, smiling.

"I do not know how to apologize for my stupid neglect. But I hope you
will believe me when I assure you it was inadvertent. The truth is I
overslept myself. I can't think what made me do it," he said, actually
blushing like a boy at the thought of his involuntary sluggishness.

"You were very much fatigued last night. I am very glad you had a
refreshing sleep. I hope you feel the better for it," she answered, with
her sweet smile.

"Well, no; not much better. You know there is such a thing as taking too
much sleep. I feel quite as if I had taken twice too much--dull and
heavy, with a stupid headache. I