CHAPTER I.
DISAPPOINTMENT.
Of all places upon this earth, perhaps, there is none more obnoxious to the civilized mind than London in October; and yet to Valentine Hawkehurst, newly arrived from Ullerton per North-Western Railway, that city seemed as an enchanted and paradisiacal region.

Were not the western suburbs of that murky metropolis inhabited by Charlotte Halliday, and might he not hope to see her?
He did hope for that enjoyment.

He had felt something more than hope while speeding Londonwards by that delightful combination of a liberal railway management, a fast and yet cheap train.

He had beguiled himself with a delicious certainty.

Early the next morning--or at any rate as early as civilization permitted--he would hie him to Bayswater, and present himself at the neat iron gate of Philip Sheldon's gothic villa.
_She_ would be there, in the garden most likely, his divine Charlotte, so bright and radiant a creature that the dull October morning would be made glorious by her presence--she would be there, and she would welcome him with that smile which made her the most enchanting of women.
Such thoughts as these had engaged him during his homeward journey; and compared with the delight of such visions, the perusal of daily papers and the consumption of sandwiches, whereby other passengers beguiled their transit, seemed a poor amusement.