"Beg pardon, sir; could you happen to inform me where-abouts my young lady is sitting?"

"At the other end of the room, near the orchestra."

"I'm sure I don't know however I am to get to her, then," returned the man more in self-soliloquy than to Mr. Carlyle. "The room is choke full, and I don't like crushing by. My lord is taken alarmingly worse, sir," he explained in an awe-stricken tone; "it is feared he is dying."

Mr. Carlyle was painfully startled.

"His screams of pain were awful, sir. Mr. Wainwright and another doctor from West Lynne are with him, and an express has gone to Lynneboro' for physicians. Mrs. Mason said we were to fetch my young lady right home, and not lose a moment; and we brought the carriage, sir, Wells galloping his horses all the way."

"I will bring Lady Isabel," said Mr. Carlyle.

"I am sure, sir, I should be under everlasting obligations if you would," returned the man.

He worked his way through the concert room--he was tall and slender-- many looking daggers at him, for a pathetic song was just then being given by a London lady. He disregarded all, and stood before Isabel.