“Yes, thanks; they told me how kind you were, and I ought to have written you, but I had so much to see to.  I trust I may never go through the like again.  Those landlords are perfect swindlers, the whole of them, and ought to be indicted.”

He spoke excitedly, and Grey gazed at him in blank astonishment.  Was he perfectly heartless that he could speak thus of an event, the mere remembrance of which made Grey’s heart throb with anguish?  Had he really no abiding love for Bessie, that he could speak thus of the trouble and expense her death had caused him?  Grey could not tell, but he was never as near hating Neil McPherson, as he was that moment, and he felt a greater desire to thrash him than he had done at Melrose when the star-spangled banner was insulted.

He could not pursue the subject further, and he changed the conversation by speaking of Jack Trevellian, from whom he had not heard since he left him in Vienna, weeks before.

“I have written to him,” he said, “but have received no answer.  I have also written to Miss Meredith, with a like result, and conclude I have no friends this side the water, so I am going home.”

“You can count on me for a friend always,” Neil said, with a sudden gush of warmth, as he extended his hand, adding hurriedly:  “And now I must say good-by, as I have an engagement. Au revoir and bon voyage.”

“Good-by,” Grey answered, a little coldly, and the carriages moved on, greatly to the relief of Neil, who had been in a tremor of fear lest Bessie should be inquired for and he be obliged to tell where she was.

During his interview with Grey his conscience and his pride had been waging a fierce battle the latter bidding him say nothing of Bessie, who possibly might not be seen during the voyage, as she had promised to keep strictly out of the sight of the saloon passengers, and, unless necessary, not to tell any one except her aunt that she had crossed as steerage.  Thus the disgrace might never be known.  But his conscience bade him tell Grey the truth, and ask him to find Bessie on shipboard, and do what he could to lighten the dreariness of her situation.  Why he did not do this Neil could not tell, and when the opportunity was passed he cursed himself for a miserable coward, and actually put his head from the window to bid the cabman turn back and overtake the carriage they had met.

“Ten chances to one if I find him now.  I’ll write and confess the whole thing,” he finally decided, and so went back to the hotel, where he passed a miserable three hours, until it was time to dress for the dinner at the house where his mother was visiting.

It was quite a large dinner-party, consisting mostly of matrons and elderly men, so that Neil’s presence was hailed with delight, and he was the center of attraction for at least four young ladies, among whom Blanche was conspicuous.  But Neil had no heart for anything, and seemed so silent and absent-minded that his mother whispered to him in an aside: