Shortly after ten on the Wednesday morning a young gentleman clad in
travelling costume drove up to the door of a house in Edgeware Road, got
out of the hansom, stepped across the pavement, and rang the bell. The
smart little maid-servant who answered the summons appeared to know him,
but was naturally none the less surprised by so early a visit.

"Miss Burgoyne isn't down yet, sir!" she said, in answer to his
inquiries.

"Very well, I will wait," said the young man, who seemed rather hurried
and nervous. "Will you tell her that I wish to see her on a matter of
great importance. She will know what it is."

Well, it was not the business of this rosy-cheeked maid to check the
vagaries of impetuous lovers; she merely said,

"Will you step up-stairs, sir; there's a fire in the morning-room."

She led the way, and when she had left him in the bright little
chamber--where breakfast-things for one were laid on the table--she
departed to find, perhaps to arouse, her mistress. The young man went to
the window and stared into the street. He returned to the fire and
stared into the red flames. He took up a newspaper that was on the
table and opened it, but could not fix his attention. And no wonder; for
he had just succeeded to a baronetcy and the extensive Petmansworth
estates; and he was determined to win a bride as well--even as he was on
his way to his father's funeral.

It was some considerable time before Miss Burgoyne came down, and when
she did make her appearance she seemed none too well pleased by this
unconscionable intrusion; at the same time she had paid some little
attention to her face, and she wore a most charming tea-gown of pink and
sage-green.

"Well?" she said, rather coldly. "What now? I thought you had gone over
to Paris."

"But don't you know what has happened?" he said, rather breathlessly.

"What has happened?"

He took up the newspaper, opened it, and handed it to her in silence,
showing her a particular paragraph.

"Oh!" she said, with startled eyes, and yet she read the lines slowly,
to give time for consideration. And then she recollected that she ought
to express sympathy. "I am so very sorry--so sudden and unexpected; it
must have been such a shock to you. But," she added, after a
second--"but why are you here? You ought to have gone home at once."

"I'm on my way home--I only got the telegram yesterday afternoon--I
reached London this morning," the young man said, disconnectedly; al