pale and agitated. "Is Lady Clavering up yet?" he asked.
Yes, she was in her own sitting-room. He went up to her, and there found
the poor lady in a piteous state of tears and agitation.

"It is I,--Arthur," he said, looking in; and entering, he took her
hand very affectionately and kissed it. "You were always the kindest of
friends to me, dear Lady Clavering," he said. "I love you very much. I
have got some news for you."

"Don't call me by that name," she said, pressing his hand. "You were
always a good boy, Arthur; and it's kind of you to come now,--very kind.
You sometimes look very like your ma, my dear."

"Dear good Lady Clavering," Arthur repeated, with particular emphasis,
"something very strange has happened."

"Has anything happened to him?" gasped Lady Clavering. "Oh, it's horrid
to think I should be glad of it--horrid!"

"He is well. He has been and is gone, my dear lady. Don't alarm
yourself;--he is gone, and you are Lady Clavering still."

"Is it true? what he sometimes said to me," she screamed out,--"that
he----"

"He was married before he married you," said Pen. "He has confessed it
to-night. He will never come back." There came another shriek from Lady
Clavering, as she flung her arms round Pen, and kissed him, and burst
into tears on his shoulder.

What Pen had to tell, through a multiplicity of sobs and interruptions,
must be compressed briefly, for behold our prescribed limit is reached,
and our tale is coming to its end. With the Branch Coach from the
railroad, which had succeeded the old Alacrity and Perseverance, Amory
arrived, and was set down at the Clavering Arms. He ordered his dinner
at the place under his assumed name of Altamont; and, being of a jovial
turn, he welcomed the landlord, who was nothing loth, to a share of his
wine. Having extracted from Mr. Lightfoot all the news regarding the
family at the Park, and found, from examining his host, that Mrs.
Lightfoot, as she said, had kept his counsel, he called for more wine
of Mr. Lightfoot; and at the end of this symposium, both, being greatly
excited, went into Mrs. Lightfoot's bar.

She was there taking tea with her friend, Madame Fribsby; and Lightfoot
was by this time in such a happy state as not to be surprised at
anything which might occur, so that, when Altamont shook hands with Mrs.
Lightfoot as an old acquaintance, the recognition did not appear to
him to be in the least strange, but only a reasonable cause for further