The girl threw open a door, and he entered; his heart was not quite free from pulsation. He was not a man of adventure by nature—two or three motives urged him to this one. The room was quietly, but gracefully furnished; the curtains were not of rich damask, neither were there rich bronzes, ormolu, or tables to break one's neck over, or shiver to atoms in the fall thereof half a dozen hideous idols, or Chinese cups and saucers—no! it was not a company receiving-room, but the apartment of a refined and domestic mind. The two generally unite, for they emanate from our best mistress—Nature. The curtains and furniture were of pale green chintz. There were a few choice flowers in a vase on the table; one single dahlia, rich in colour, alone, like a queen in state and beauty, in a rich Bohemian glass, on a centre table; and, like attendant courtiers, in various smaller ones, were varied specimens scattered about amidst books, pencils, half-finished bouquets, shewing why they were there—for art to perpetuate nature. There were ottomans, easy-chairs, and ladies' work; in short, home spoke to you in every thing. There was an open piano, and music scattered about; and the tables, piano, even to the frames of the mirrors, were of maple-wood. Another door opened into a small conservatory with stained glass windows—it was, in truth, a little paradise. A cheering fire enlivened the whole—for though a fine day, it was chilly; yet the sun shone without, and in the bright conservatory, where summer seemed still to reign. "You can write a note here, sir, if you please," said the woman, placing materials before him; "and when you have finished it, if you will be good enough to ring the bell, I will return." Thus saying, and not having a fear of those adventurous knights called London thieves before her eyes, she withdrew quietly. Every thing there breathed peace, even the placid servant.

"What shall I write?" thought Lord Randolph. "What a fool I was, not to ask to see the mistress of the house! it is not too late; by George, I'll do so now!" He rose to touch the bell, a voice arrested his hand; it was breathless, as if the owner had hurried; it came through the conservatory, and a step, like a bounding roe, accompanied it. "Miles, dear!" it cried, "have you forgotten any thing? I heard your rap. I was at the end of the garden gathering violets,"—the step stopped suddenly, "Oh, dear!" exclaimed the voice changing its tone, "I declare I've lost them all out of my basket, hurrying to meet you! Come, and help me pick them up!" There was an instant's silence, the visiter stood irresolute, his eyes fixed on the conservatory door. "Miles!" called the voice again; there was no reply, and in another instant Minnie, with eyes full of hope and surprise, entered the room. A scream burst from her lips, and her basket fell from her hands. Lord Randolph stood a moment speechless. "Miss Dalzell!" he exclaimed at last; advancing like one treading on fairy-land, so amazed he felt. Minnie was like a rose when she entered, and her eyes looked almost black in their violet darkness from exercise and excitement. Now she became pale and trembling, why, she scarcely knew, 'twas perhaps presentiment. "Lord Randolph Gray!" she ejaculated, "you here!"—the very words implied deep fear of consequences.

"I certainly did not anticipate the happiness of meeting one so soon again, whose memory has lived with me unfading since yesterday," he answered with the ready gallantry of a man who deemed it could not but be well received where he addressed it. There was admiration, not respect in the phrase. Even unsophisticated Minnie felt this; but so bewildered was she, that for the time she totally overlooked her actual position as it must be in his eyes, thus, with Tremenhere, as Miss Dalzell. "Do not let me alarm you," he continued courteously, seeing how pale she had turned; "believe me, I am too much a gentleman in any way to insult you. My meeting you again, though indeed I bless the good fate which has produced it, has been purely accidental. I came to see Mr. Tremenhere."

"Then, my——" she checked the word uppermost, "cousin," scarcely knowing why, "Lady Dora Vaughan," she substituted, "did not tell you where I resided? I thought so for a moment, and wondered much, she was so fearful yesterday, lest your lordship should follow us."

"What can the connection between these women mean?" he thought, every moment more perplexed.

"Lady Dora is, I know, a girl of independent mind: has she known this girl before her fall, and is she trying to reclaim her? If so, why walk in public with her? Or, has she been sitting to this Tremenhere for a portrait, and been brought in contact with this girl, and, charmed by her manner, overlooked her position? But—oh no, no!—Lady Dora would never act thus." It never struck him for an instant, the truth—Minnie's marriage; the "Miss Dalzell," and confusion of Lady Dora, completely refuted this idea.

"Lady Dora," he answered, smiling more composedly, now resolved to leave thought to absence, and enjoy the present pleasure of this unforeseen good-luck, "is totally ignorant of my purposed visit here, which was designed for Mr. Tremenhere on business."

Minnie, too, was gradually becoming more composed, now his visit had so natural a motive; she glided to an ottoman, and, pointing to a chair, apologised for her previous rudeness in omitting to offer one, and blaming her astonishment as cause of the remissness. Minnie was guiltless of wrong any way; so, as a friend of both her cousin and Miles, she conversed freely with her guest, whose admiration every moment became more decided, and, in proportion, a species of mixed jealousy and dislike towards Tremenhere, both for possessing such a treasure, and the base means by which he had gained it—seduction. For, with all his love of the fair sex, this was a crime in his eyes he would have scorned. Poor Minnie forgot, in her own innocence, all about her equivocal position, and he of course did not allude to it. He spoke of Tremenhere, and she replied unreservedly as of her husband; but without naming him as such. Lord Randolph did her justice in one respect; he saw she was too simple in mind, and, strange contradiction! too pure in thought, to be easily made to comprehend any thing like ordinary flirtation. He, as a man of the world, though not a genius, at once perceived that it would only be by gaining her affections she might be won. He deemed it almost an act of justice to wrong the wronger; he would have gloried in it! Lord Randolph was one of the many: he possessed the genuine code of worldly morality—not a very safe bark to sail to the end of life in. Much he said to her which she could not comprehend; but he was Miles's friend, so she accepted his words as meant in mere friendship. He could make himself agreeable when he pleased; and she rejoiced in the meeting, hoping he would often call and see Miles, who must like him; she knew they were friends. Something of this she permitted him to understand.

"I fear," he said, abstaining from giving her any name, "Tremenhere, though a friend of mine, may not approve of my visits here; he has so sedulously concealed his happiness from all."

"Oh!" she answered, "that was on account of unfortunate family affairs, which oblige us to live secluded; but I hope soon all will be cleared away of annoyance—all forgiven—and then we may summon our friends to rejoice with us."

There was something so artless in her manner, that he involuntarily seized her hand, and said in all sincerity, "From my soul I hope so, for your sake!"

At that moment he would have made any effort to restore an evidently innocent girl at heart, to a different position; his only wonder was, the longer he conversed with her, how she could ever have fallen; and every instant his impatience and disgust towards Tremenhere grew stronger. And he looked with indignant feelings on the presumption of the man who could, as he deemed he did, trample on this lovely girl as a being beneath him, too much so to share his name. How falsely we may judge others! and a wrong judgment is parent of many errors. At last he rose to leave; he durst not then prolong his visit. As he did so, Minnie inquired, "What message she should give Tremenhere?"

"I think," he replied, "it were better not to name my visit, if I may presume to dictate to you."

"But," she said, smiling in all confidence, "you came to see him."

"True; but I did not anticipate the extreme pleasure of meeting you. He might be displeased."

"Oh, no!" she answered in her former tone, "it cannot annoy him. I feared so at first, as he wishes me not to see, or be seen, at present; but when I tell him how your lordship came, he will see it could not have been avoided. Besides, I told him of Lady Dora's introduction, and our all walking together yesterday."

"And what did he say?" asked the other, waking from surprise to surprise.

"Miles was very much annoyed with Lady Dora; he said, as a person experienced in the world's opinions, she ought not to have presented me to you, because——" She stopped, and coloured deeply, feeling it too delicate a subject to enter upon with a stranger. She had been so accustomed to speak of, hear of Lord Randolph as Dora's future husband, that he had seemed as already a cousin to her, though, in point of fact, almost a stranger. Poor Minnie had much worldly reserve to learn; besides, she was speaking as she knew herself, not as he suspected her; and there was nothing to awaken her rudely in his manner. She was as a somnambulist, speaking in her sleep, to the wakeful.

"Let me beg of you not to tell Tremenhere," he earnestly asked.

"I never conceal a thought from him," was her reply; "how pass an hour with him, and keep a secret in my heart? I should suffocate with the weight of it alone."

"I think I know Tremenhere better than even you can. Women rarely know men, as their friends read them; for your own sake, let me earnestly entreat secresy this once."

His earnestness made her tremble, and become serious. "I do not comprehend your lordship," she said with dignity; "have I done wrong in conversing freely with you?"

"Good heavens! no; I trust we may often thus converse again."

"Then I shall tell Miles as soon as he returns; he cannot but approve my receiving his friends with what courtesy I am mistress of. If I have been wanting in due reserve, my lord may excuse it—I am but a country bred girl."

"But the most charming one I ever met!" he warmly exclaimed, endeavouring to seize her hand; but Minnie's delicacy had taken the alarm, she drew back, and, laying her hand on the bell, said quietly—

"Your lordship has no message to leave?"

"None," he answered, slightly disconcerted by her sudden reserve—"I cannot think of troubling you; I will write."

The bell sounded beneath her fingers; with perfect composure she curtsied. He durst not again attempt to take her hand, and he followed the serious maid to the outer gate; there he turned, but no eye was watching him, for Minnie had sunk on a seat, and was lost in memory, not of the most agreeable sort, of many strange things her visitor had said, which created an unpleasant sensation, and yet she could not tell where, or why. Lord Randolph rode on in perplexed imaginings, too; she had left an impression on his mind of pleasure and pain. The former, that irresistible feeling we experience when gazing upon either a lovely face, or lovely picture. The latter, was sorrow that so fair a shrine should be desecrated; for, though a man of the world, he was no libertine. He would rather at any time save a woman than lose her. If he found her lost, irretrievably so, he followed the current of worldly recklessness, and left moralizing to a more fitting occasion. Nothing could have persuaded him that this girl had voluntarily chosen a life of degradation—some arts, some entrapment, must have been used; and with these thoughts in his mind he turned into Loundes Square, intending to call upon Lady Dora. As he turned the corner of a street leading into it, her ladyship's brougham passed him rapidly; the blinds were half drawn down, as if she wished to avoid recognition, and she herself was leaning back, reading a letter attentively. Evidently he had not been noticed; for a moment he hesitated, and then, turning round, cantered after her. Her groom drove on, however, at a rapid pace, and Lord Randolph followed. "When she stops," he said to himself, "I'll join her; she may be induced, perhaps, to tell me more about this unhappy girl." But Lady Dora did not stop; and what at first had been done unpremeditatedly, now became a sort of link in the mystery of the last two days. Where could she be going alone at that rapid pace? Overtake her he could not, without calling to her groom; so he followed about twenty yards behind. At the corner of Charles Street, Soho, there was a stoppage of carriages; hers passed, but his horse, being rather spirited, made some demur before a coal-waggon; and, when he reached the square, it was just in time to see Lady Dora enter the bazaar hastily, with her veil down. To dismount, and leave his horse in a man's care, occupied a few minutes more; then he too entered, with no idea but one—of finding her ladyship occupied in shopping; and he deemed himself very fortunate in having so excellent an opportunity of conversing with her.

We have said Lady Dora was reading a letter when Lord Randolph first saw her; we will give its contents to our readers; she had received it by a messenger an hour before.

"Mr. Tremenhere presents his compliments to Lady Dora Vaughan; and though he would not presume to intrude thus for any merely personal business, yet as the husband of one allied so closely to Lady Dora, he ventures to solicit half an hour's conversation about Minnie, and the most unpleasant affair of yesterday. He dare not venture to intrude in Loundes Square, but at three precisely, he will be in the Soho Bazaar; and under these circumstances, hopes her ladyship will favour him, where one dear to her is so nearly concerned."

When Lord Randolph entered, it was to see Lady Dora and Miles Tremenhere composedly ascending the stairs together—not arm in arm, but in close converse. To turn, and bolt out of the bazaar, were the acts of an instant—he was too proud to become a spy on their actions: that they had met by appointment was evident. In a greater state of excitement than before, he mounted his horse, and, riding to the opposite side of the square, watched the door. Nearly half an hour elapsed, and then she came out hurriedly alone, stepped in, and off drove the brougham again at a quick pace. Two minutes afterwards Tremenhere came out; and, with eyes bent on the ground in deep thought, turned through Charles into Oxford Street. There is a natural envy in our hearts, which makes us feel less kindly towards one superior to ourselves in every way, than we should to one inferior; and were we judging between the two, assuredly we would rather find a guilty flaw in the one than the other. Though liking Tremenhere, Lord Randolph at once condemned him as every thing that was bad; and deemed himself of wonderful perspicacity in reading the intricate book before his mind's eye, thus:—By his power of fascination and good looks, he had entangled both these women. (Dalby had given him the clue.) Minnie he had lost, and by some inconceivable means, drawn the proud Lady Dora into an acquaintance with her; and now he was endeavouring, and from their private meeting it would seem successfully, to accomplish some further end—marriage, of course—with a woman too much in love, perhaps, to resist him. How else could he account for the events before him? With all this in his mind, is it to be wondered at that he felt the utmost disgust for Tremenhere? How to act he knew not. As to quietly allowing these events to take their present course, that was impossible—whom consult? Not Burton—he did not like the man; nor Dalby—no creature—but a friend. So he went off, and sought his young friend whom we have seen at Uplands—the unfledged youth, whom we will call Mr. Vellumy; and between them the two concocted as fatal a scheme as they could well have imagined; and done, like many such another, with the best intention; for Mr. Vellumy, like his friend, would rather do a good than a bad action—not that he was one to repent in sackcloth and ashes if he accomplished a criminal one by accident. He was "a good-intention" embodied, and stuck like a crow on the top of a weathercock. He and Lord Randolph being bosom friends, had run up together for two or three days from Uplands, leaving the remaining guests at Liberty Hall to take care of themselves—bachelor sans ceremonie. We will leave them awhile and follow Lady Dora, whose brougham spun, in a short space like thought, down to Chiswick, and stopped at Tremenhere's gate. He had, of course, not returned. Minnie could scarce credit the evidence of her eyes when she saw her cousin step out.

"It is so kind—so very kind, dear Dora!" she exclaimed, embracing her, "to return so soon."

"I have but a few minutes to stay," answered the other, "for mamma will wonder where I have been. But that I am not much controlled, she might question and scold; for I have been out some time, Minnie," she added hastily. "Do you know with whom I have been walking?"

"I cannot guess, Dora."

"There—read that—and see!" and she laid on her knee Miles's letter. Minnie coloured deeply, and like a vision passed before her the recollection of their meeting at Uplands, which he never mentioned. She was not jealous; but it was like the sudden pain of a thorn, which makes one wince and cry out—the flesh versus spirit; but when she read it, the spirit conquered at once.

"My dear husband," she said, "how he ever thinks of me! And what did he say, Dora?"

Dora then told her the substance of their conversation, and his entreaties that she should seek an interview with Lord Randolph Gray, and tell him the truth about his marriage, as it would come better from her than from himself. If, however, she declined, he expressed his determination to do so without delay, foreseeing possibly future embarrassments from this unfortunate introduction.

"I argued against it," she said; "but at last he convinced me I had not acted prudently, and therefore, though much against my feelings, I must explain all, and bind his lordship to secresy. It is a most unfortunate circumstance altogether."

Lady Dora, though too kind, when she permitted her heart sway, to pain any one wilfully, was galled and wounded deeply in her pride by all these events. How to tell Lord Randolph she knew not; and with Tremenhere she admitted, it would better come from herself than from him. "I shall probably see him to-night, or certainly to-morrow," she added, "and then all shall be explained."

While she was speaking, Minnie had fallen into a train of the most intense thought; one coursing another through her brain. She was beginning to understand much Randolph had said to her, and how tell Miles? it would pain him. However, it would soon be explained to his lordship, and then all would go smoothly. Poor Minnie!

"Do you know, Dora," she said, looking up at last, seriously, "Lord Randolph called here to-day?"

"Here!" exclaimed her cousin, amazed. "Here! and how? on what pretence? did you see him?"

There was not a gleam of jealousy in this questioning. She cared little to lose him for ever; it was his audacity, and consequences she thought of. Minnie related every thing which passed. Though but a girl herself, Lady Dora was one of the world, and saw much more than her simple cousin did in this visit. Bitterly she blamed herself for her false step the previous day, in introducing "Miss Dalzell;" now she indeed saw the necessity of an explanation.

"Of course," she said, "you do not intend telling Mr. Tremenhere of this?"

"Not tell Miles!" exclaimed Minnie in surprise. "How could I conceal it from him?"

"Minnie, you will be mad to do so!" answered her cousin, much agitated. "Mr. Tremenhere, in his excited state, will see even more than was meant, and I will answer for nothing."

"Truth, dear Dora, always carries its own shafts to the heart. I cannot conceal any thing from Miles; it would kill me to do so. Where should I hide a secret from him? he reads my very soul; 'tis ever open before him."

"And do you wish, perhaps, for bloodshed? I cannot see where it will terminate. Pray, let me explain all to his lordship first, then there can be nothing to fear."

Minnie justly argued, that Lord Randolph's visit had been made to her husband, not knowing she was even there; but Dora overruled this.

"Mr. Tremenhere," she said, "was in that excited state when speaking of the possibility of insult to you, that if he know this to-day, he will be capable of any thing. Pray, Minnie!—dear Minnie! promise me the secret until to-morrow evening; I will come here then, and tell Mr. Tremenhere myself, and he must acknowledge I did right. He will applaud your good sense; whereas, if you tell, what can control his rage before then?"

Minnie began crying. The idea to her, of concealment from Miles, was so dreadful, that she could not for a length of time overcome her repugnance; but Dora so forcibly impressed upon her mind the dread of a duel, that in the certainty of its only being for one day, and as no untruth, only silence, was required, she consented; and Lady Dora, embracing her cordially, with her own handkerchief dried the tearful eyes, and left her, promising to return next evening, and in the meanwhile see Lord Randolph, and disclose all to him. She had perfectly arranged it herself, as we often do events; but quite overlooked such a thing as fatality.

END OF VOLUME FIRST.