had restrained them from following to the street-door, as Clara had
done; and now they had rushed up again, while Clara, with one foot on
the staircase, looked in her cousin's face, as he tried to smile in
answer, and repeated, 'Louis, I hoped you were quite happy.'

'I am,' said Louis, quickly.

'Then why do you look so grave and uneasy?'

'Louis!' said an entreating voice above, and there stood Mary--'Pray
say nothing, but call a cab for me, please. No, I am not ill-
indeed, I am not--but I cannot stay!'

'You look ill! It has been too much for you! Clara, take her--let
her lie down quietly,' cried Louis, springing to her side.

'Oh no, thank you-no,' said Mary, decidedly, though very low; 'I told
Lady Conway that I could not stay. I settled it with Aunt Melicent.'

'That aunt of yours--'

'Hush! No, it is for my own sake--my own doing. I cannot bear it
any longer! Please let me go!'

'Then I will take you. I saw the brougham waiting. We will go
quietly together.'

'No, that must not be.'

'I was thoughtless in urgtng you to come. The turmoil has been too