Both rose; the one a well-dressed man, the other—­it was the well-known action—­’Mary!’ it was all that he had the power to say; he was hardly visible, but what tone was ever like that low, distinct, earnest voice?

Mary clasped her hands together as if in bewilderment.

‘Xavier should not—­I will speak,’ whispered her companion to her, and beginning, ‘Address yourself to me, sir!’

But Mary sprang forward, signing him back with her hand.  ’It is my cousin, Lord Fitzjocelyn!’ she said, as if breath and effort would serve no more, and she laid her hand in that of Louis.

‘Mr. Ward?’ said Louis, barely able to frame the question, yet striving for a manner that might leave no thorns behind.

‘No; oh, no!  Mr. Robson.’

The very sound of the ‘No’ made his heart bound up again, and his hand closed fast on that which lay within it, while a bow passed between him and Robson.

‘And you are come?’ as if it were too incredible.

‘I told you I should,’ he answered.

‘I will leave you, Miss Ponsonby,’ said Robson; ’we will continue our little business when you are less agreeably engaged.’

He began to gather the papers together, an action which suddenly recalled Louis to the recollection of Tom’s cautions as to prudence and alertness, and he forced himself to a prompt tone of business.

‘I hope to be able to be of use,’ he said, turning to Mary.  ’Mr. Dynevor has given me a commission to look into his affairs,’ and he put into Robson’s hands the letter written by James, and signed by Oliver.

’Thank you, Lord Fitzjocelyn, I shall be very happy to give any explanations you may wish,’ said Robson, measuring with his eye his youthful figure and features, and piling up the books.

‘I should prefer having these left with me,’ said Louis; ’I have but little time before me, and if I could look them over to-night, I should be prepared for you to-morrow.’

’Allow me.  You would find it impossible to understand these entries.  There is much to be set in order before they would be ready for the honour of your lordship’s inspection.’

’I particularly wish to have them at once.  You give me authority to act for you, Miss Ponsonby?’ he added, looking at her, as she stood holding by the table, as one half awake.

‘Oh! yes, I put the whole into your hands,’ she answered, mechanically, obeying his eye.

‘Allow me, my Lord,’ said Robson, as Fitzjocelyn laid the firm hand of detention on the heavy ledgers, and great leathern pocket-book.

’Yes; we had better know exactly what you leave in my charge, Mr. Robson,’ said Louis, beginning to suspect that the clerk fancied that the weight and number of the books and bundles of bills might satisfy his unpractised eye, and that the essential was to be found in the pocket-book, on which he therefore retained a special hold; asking, as Robson held out his hand for it, ‘is this private property?’