London, 2d May, 1864.—­Mrs. Eyrecourt’s telegram reached me just after Doctor Wybrow had paid his first professional visit to Penrose, at the hotel.  I had hardly time to feel relieved by the opinion of the case which he expressed, before my mind was upset by Mrs. Eyrecourt.  Leaving Penrose under the charge of our excellent landlady, I hurried away to Lord Loring.

It was still early in the day:  his lordship was at home.  He maddened me with impatience by apologizing at full length for “the inexcusable manner in which he had misinterpreted my conduct on the deplorable occasion of the marriage ceremony at Brussels.”  I stopped his flow of words (very earnestly spoken, it is only right to add), and entreated him to tell me, in the first place, what Stella was doing in Paris.

“Stella is with her husband,” Lord Loring replied.

My head turned giddy, my heart beat furiously.  Lord Loring looked at me—­ran to the luncheon table in the next room—­and returned with a glass of wine.  I really don’t know whether I drank the wine or not.  I know I stammered out another inquiry in one word.

“Reconciled?” I said.

“Yes, Mr. Winterfield—­reconciled, before he dies.”

We were both silent for a while.

What was he thinking of?  I don’t know.  What was I thinking of?  I daren’t write it down.

Lord Loring resumed by expressing some anxiety on the subject of my health.  I made the best excuse for myself that I could, and told him of the rescue of Penrose.  He had heard of my object in leaving England, and heartily congratulated me.  “This will be welcome news indeed,” he said, “to Father Benwell.”

Even the name of Father Benwell now excites my distrust.  “Is he in Paris too?” I inquired.

“He left Paris last night,” Lord Loring answered; “and he is now in London, on important business (as I understand) connected with Romayne’s affairs.”

I instantly thought of the boy.

“Is Romayne in possession of his faculties?” I asked.

“In complete possession.”

“While justice is in his power, has he done justice to his son?”

Lord Loring looked a little confused.  “I have not heard,” was all he said in reply.

I was far from satisfied.  “You are one of Romayne’s oldest friends,” I persisted.  “Have you not seen him yourself?”

“I have seen him more than once.  But he has never referred to his affairs.”  Having said this he hastily changed the subject.  “Is there any other information that I can give you?” he suggested.

I had still to learn under what circumstances Romayne had left Italy for France, and how the event of his illness in Paris had been communicated to his wife.  Lord Loring had only to draw on his own recollections to enlighten me.

“Lady Loring and I passed the last winter in Rome,” he said.  “And, there, we saw Romayne.  You look surprised.  Perhaps you are aware that we had offended him, by advice which we thought it our duty to offer to Stella before her marriage?”