“Well,” said Philip, rising, “I shall see a lawyer to-morrow, and you may expect to hear from him soon regarding the settlement I make upon you.”

“You are too kind,” she murmured.  “I have no right to accept it of you.”

“Oh, yes, you have.  I am always your husband, I tell you; and you will have no choice but to accept.  I know not what income you get by acting; but this will suffice if you choose to leave the stage.”

“But you?” she replied faintly, rising.  “Shall I not see—?”

“I shall leave England in a few days:  I don’t know how long I shall be abroad.  But there will be Bert, and Fanny, and Mrs. Russell—­I know you may command them for anything.”  There was an oppressive pause now, during which she looked at him wistfully, hoping he might at the last moment ask her that, which he waited to give her a final opportunity of asking him.  But neither dared, for fear of the other’s hesitation or refusal.  And so, at length, with a good-bye spoken in an unnatural voice on each side, the two exchanged a hand-clasp, and Philip left the room.  She stood pale and trembling, bereft of speech, while I told her that I should wait upon her soon.  Then I followed Philip down-stairs and to the street.

“I will stay to-night at Jack’s tavern yonder,” said he.  “I can watch this house, in case that knave should return to annoy her.  Go you home—­Fanny and your mother will be anxious.  And come for me to-morrow at the tavern, as early as you can.  You may tell them what you see fit, at home.  That’s all, I think—­’tis very late.  Good night!”

I sought a hackney-coach, and went home to relieve the fears of the ladies, occasioned by our long absence.  My news that Margaret was found (I omitted mention of Captain Falconer in my account) put the good souls into a great flutter of joy and excitement, and they would have it that they should go in to see her the first thing on the morrow, a resolution I saw no reason to oppose.  So I took them with me to town in the morning, left them at Madge’s lodgings, and was gone to join Philip ere the laughing and crying of their meeting with her was half-done.

As there was little chance to find Captain Falconer stirring early, Phil and I gave the forenoon to his arrangements with his man of law at Lincoln’s Inn.  When these were satisfactorily concluded, and a visit incidental to them had been made to a bank in the city, we refreshed ourselves at the Globe tavern in Fleet Street, and then turned our faces Westward.

At the tavern that Madge had named, we learned where Falconer abode, but, proceeding to his lodgings, found he had gone out.  We looked in at various places whither we were directed; but ’twas not till late in the afternoon, that Philip caught sight of him writing a letter at a table in the St. James Coffeehouse.

Philip recognised him from the view he had obtained the previous night; but, to make sure, he nudged me to look.  On my giving a nod of confirmation, Philip went to him at once, and said: