How much of what he said Moseley heard, we cannot say; for had he talked an hour longer he would have been uninterrupted.  Lord Henry was too much engaged with his description to notice his companion’s taciturnity or surprise, and after walking a square or two together they parted; the sailor being on the wing for his frigate at Yarmouth.

John continued his course, musing on the intelligence he had just heard.  That Denbigh could forget Emily so soon, he would not believe, and he greatly feared he had been driven into a step, from despair, that he might hereafter repent of.  The avoiding of himself was now fully explained; but would Lady Laura Stapleton accept a man for a husband at so short a notice? and for the first time a suspicion that something in the character of Denbigh was wrong, mingled in his reflections on his sister’s refusal of his offers.

Lord and Lady Herriefield were on the eve of their departure for the continent (for Catherine had been led to the altar the preceding week), a southern climate having been prescribed as necessary to the bridegroom’s constitution; and the dowager and Grace were about to proceed to a seat of the baron’s within a couple of miles of Bath.  Chatterton himself had his own engagements, but he promised to be there in company with his friend Derwent within a fortnight; the former visit having been postponed by the marriages in their respective families.

John had been assiduous in his attentions during the season of forced gaiety which followed the nuptials of Kate; and as the dowager’s time was monopolized with the ceremonials of that event, Grace had risen greatly in his estimation.  If Grace Chatterton was not more miserable than usual, at what she thought was the destruction of her sister’s happiness, it was owing to the presence and unconcealed affection of John Moseley.

The carriage of Lord Herriefield was in waiting when John rang for admittance.  On opening the door and entering the drawing-room, he saw the bride and bridegroom, with their mother and sister, accoutred for an excursion amongst the shops of Bond street:  for Kate was dying to find a vent for some of her surplus pin-money—­her husband to show his handsome wife in the face of the world—­the mother to display the triumph of her matrimonial schemes.  And Grace was forced to obey her mother’s commands, in accompanying her sister as an attendant, not to be dispensed with at all in her circumstances.

The entrance of John at that instant, though nothing more than what occurred every day at that hour, deranged the whole plan:  the dowager, for a moment, forgot her resolution, and forgot the necessity of Grace’s appearance, exclaiming with evident satisfaction,

“Here is Mr. Moseley come to keep you company, Grace; so, after all, you must consult your headache and stay at home.  Indeed, my love, I never can consent you should go out.  I not only wish, but insist you remain within this morning.”