“I won’t see him,” said she, with heightened colour, grieving greatly that the strong-minded Hannah Protheroe,—or Buggins, as it might probably be by that time,—was not at home. “Martha, don’t let him come up. Tell him to go away at once.”

After some persuasion, the girl went down with the message, which she softened to suit her own idea of propriety. But she returned, saying that the gentleman was very urgent. He insisted that he must see Miss Mackenzie, if only for an instant, before he left the house.

“Tell him,” said Margaret, “that nothing shall induce me to see him. I’ll send for a policeman. If he won’t go when he’s told, Martha, you must go for a policeman.”

Martha, when she heard that, became frightened about the spoons and coats, and ran down again in a hurry. Then she came up again with a scrap of paper, on which a few words had been written with a pencil. This was passed through a very narrow opening in the door, as Margaret stood with it guarded, fearing lest the enemy might carry the point by an assault.

“You are being robbed,” said the note, “you are, indeed,—and my only wish is to protect you.”

“Tell him that there is no answer, and that I will receive no more notes from him,” said Margaret. Then, at last, when he received that message, Mr Maguire went away.

About a week after that, another visitor came to Miss Mackenzie, and him she received. But he was not the man for whose coming she in truth longed. It was Mr Samuel Rubb who now called, and when Mrs Buggins told her lodger that he was in the parlour, she went down to see him willingly. Her life was now more desolate than it had been before the occurrence of that ceremony in the church of St Mary-le-Strand; for, though she had much respect for Mr Buggins, of whose character she had heard nothing that was not good, and though she had given her consent as to the expediency of the Buggins’ alliance, she did not find herself qualified to associate with Mr Buggins.

“He won’t say a word, Miss,” Hannah had pleaded, “and he’ll run and fetch for you like a dog.”

But even when recommended so highly for his social qualities, Buggins, she felt, would be antipathetic to her; and, with many false assurances that she did not think it right to interrupt a newly-married couple, she confined herself on those days to her own room.

But when Mr Rubb came, she went down to see him. How much Mr Rubb knew of her affairs,—how far he might be in Miss Colza’s confidence,—she did not know; but his conduct to her had not been offensive, and she had been pleased when she learned that the first half year’s interest had been paid to her sister-in-law.

“I’m sorry to hear of all this, Miss Mackenzie,” said he, when he came forward to greet her. He had not thought it necessary, on this occasion, to put on his yellow gloves or his shiny boots, and she liked him the better on that account.