.

Mr.GREEN.
There was a quick patter of feet, the rustle of a hooped petticoat, and the lady was in the arms of my Lord Ostermore.
"Forgive me, my lord!" she was crying.

"Oh, forgive me! I was a little fool, and I have been punished enough already!" To Mr.Caryll this was a surprising development.

The earl, whose arms seemed to have opened readily enough to receive her, was patting her soothingly upon the shoulder.

"Pish! What's this?
What's this ?" he grumbled; yet his voice, Mr.Caryll noticed, was if anything kindly; but it must be confessed that it was a dull, gruff voice, seldom indicating any shade of emotion, unless--as sometimes happened--it was raised in anger.