“I cannot pretend that I am glad to see you, Lady Ferringhall,” he said quietly. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. “I saw you go into that place, and I have been waiting for you ever since. "Ah!" he exclaimed, "a letter, beginning 'dearest Aliva,'—that's your mother's name, Thames. It is she that I must see. The postilion obeyed, and dashed off as hard as his horses could gallop along the beautiful road leading to Neasdon and Willesden, just as the serving-men made their appearance.
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