r; but you
must know that, as the world judges, I am wrong to tell all this to you.
I should be wrong, only that the world has cast me out, so that I am no
longer bound to regard it. I am Lady Ongar, and I have my share of that
man's money. They have given me up Ongar Park, having satisfied
themselves that it is mine by right, and must be mine by law. But he has
robbed me of every friend I had in the world, and yet you tell me he has
not injured me!"

"Not every friend."

"No, Harry, I will not forget you, though I spoke so slightingly of you
just now. But your vanity need not be hurt. It is only the world--Mrs.
Grundy, you know, that would deny me such friendship as yours; not my
own taste or choice. Mrs. Grundy always denies us exactly those things
which we ourselves like best. You are clever enough to understand that."

He smiled and looked foolish, and declared that he only offered his
assistance because perhaps it might be convenient at the present moment.
What could he do for her? How could he show his friendship for her now
at once?

"You have done it, Harry, in listening to me and giving me your
sympathy. It is seldom that we want any great thing from our friends. I
want nothing of that kind. No one can hurt me much further now. My money
and my rank are safe; and, perhaps, by degrees, acquaintances, if not
friends, will form themselves round me again. At present, of course, I
see no one; but because I see no one, I wanted some one to whom I could
speak. Poor Hermy is worse than no one. Good-by, Harry; you look
surprised and bewildered now, but you will soon get over that. Don't be
long before I see you again." Then, feeling that he was bidden to go, he
wished her good-by, and went.

Chapter VIII

The House in Onslow Crescent

Harry, as he walked away from the house in Bolton street, hardly knew
whether he was on his heels or his head. Burton had told him not to
dress--"We don't give dress dinner parties, you know. It's all in the
family way with us"--and Harry, therefore, went direct from Bolton
street to Onslow Crescent. But, though he managed to keep the proper
course down Piccadilly, he was in such confusion of mind that he hardly
knew whither he was going. It seemed as though a new form of life had
been opened to him, and that it had been opened in such a way as almost
necessarily to engulf him. It was not only that Lady Ongar's history was
so terrible, and her life so strange, but that he