‘Why, yes; no, it is and it is not,’ said Robson, looking at the lady, as though to judge whether she were attending.  ’I only brought it here that Miss Ponsonby might have before her—­always a satisfaction to a lady, you know, sir—­though Miss Ponsonby’s superior talents for business quite enable her to comprehend.  But our affairs are not what I could wish.  The Equatorial bubble was most unfortunate, and that unfortunate young man, who has absconded after a long course of embezzlement, has carried off much valuable property.  I was laying the case before Miss Ponsonby, and showing her what amount had been fortunately secured.’

‘What is in the pocket-book?’ asked Louis of Mary; and, though she was apparently conscious of nothing around her, he obtained a direct reply.

‘The vouchers for the shares.’

‘In the Equatorial.  Unlucky speculation—­so much waste paper,’ interrupted Robson.  ’Your lordship had better let me clear away the trash, which will only complicate the matter, and distract your understanding.’

’Thank you; as you say there has been fraud, I should be better satisfied to be able to tell Mr. Dynevor that the papers have never been out of my hands.  I will call on you early to-morrow.’

Mr. Robson waited to make many inquiries for Mr. Dynevor’s health, and to offer every attention to Lord Fitzjocelyn, to introduce him to the Consul, to find apartments for him, &c.; but at last he took leave, and Louis was free to turn to the motionless Mary, who had done nothing all this time but follow him with her eyes.

All his doubts had returned, and, in the crisis of his fate, he stood irresolute, daring neither to speak nor ask, lest feelings should be betrayed which might poison her happiness.

‘Is it you?’ were her first words, as though slowly awakening.

‘It is I, come to be whatever you will let me be,’ he answered, as best he could.

‘Oh, Louis!’ she said, ‘this is too much!’ And she hid her face in her hands.

’Tell me—­one word, Mary, and I shall know what to do, and will not harass nor grieve you.’

‘Grieve me!  You!’ exclaimed Mary, in an inexpressibly incredulous tone.

‘Enough!  It is as it was before!’ and he drew her into his arms, as unresistingly as five years ago, and his voice sank with intense thankfulness, as he said, ’My Mary—­my Mary! has He not brought it to pass?’

The tears came dropping from her eyes, and then she could speak.

’Louis, my dear father withdrew his anger.  He gave full consent and blessing, if you still—­’

‘Then nothing is wanting—­all is peace!’ said Louis.  ’You know how you are longed for at home—­’

’That you should have come—­come all this way!  That Lord Ormersfield should have spared you!’ exclaimed Mary, breaking out into happy little sentences, as her tears relieved her.  ’Oh, how far off all my distress and perplexity seem now!  How foolish to have been so unhappy when there you were close by!  But you must see Dona Rosita,’ cried she, recollecting herself, after an interval, ’I must tell her.’