weakness I am to be persecuted to death. You must take your final answer, and further letters from you, sir, will be instantly laid before my father." "I think that our girl has behaved very well indeed," said Sir John, when his wife showed him the letter. "Deuced well. I wish my sister would keep her house in better order. The girl shan't go there again. I think we are very well out of it; give me the letter." "What are you going to do with it?" "Send it to him addressed in my handwriting, with my name signed in the corner. I shall send it under cover to my sister; her butler knows his address. Who is this Holmsdale?" "I don't know; the villain!" exclaimed Lady Hornbury. "We don't know that he is a villain, my dear," said Sir John; "he must be a gentleman, or my sister would never have had him to her house." "A clandestine correspondence!" said Lady Hornbury, bridling. "My dear, did we have no clandestine correspondence when I was a younger brother, and a dragoon, with five hundred a year, and you a fine lady, with Lord Bumpster at your heels everywhere? Did not you tell me once that if your mother pressed on the match with him that you would run away with me on five hundred a year and your own fortune, and trust to my poor brother Tom to get us something? And you would have done it, my lady, Why, we owe her much," said Lady Hornbury. "I tell you that no right-thinking young woman would have betrayed a kind and gentle young mistress like Edith in a love affair," said the atrocious dragoon, Sir John. "What would you have said to your own maid in old times if she had done it to you?" The argumentum ad hominem was a little too much for honest Lady Hornbury, and she had to laugh again. "But," she added, "if we send her away she will talk about the matter all over the town and country.” "Well, then, double her wages and let her stay," said Sir John; "but don't let me see ber. And as for Edith, let her have change of scene; give her a year's school somewhere. Send her to Comtesse d'Aurilliac, at Paris; she can't come to any harm with that old dragon." "My daughter will come to no harm anywhere," said Lady Hornbury, proudly. "That I am quite sure of, my dear. But the society at the old lady's pension is very agreeable, none but the very best legitimist girls, and no followers allowed." "I would not be vulgar, Sir John, if I were in your place," said the lady; "will you ever forget the barracks?" "You were very nearly knowing a good deal about them yourself, my lady, that night when you proposed to run away with me." Lady Hornbury swept out of the room majestically and left Sir John laughing. There was very little conversation between mother and daughter, for Edith found in a day or two, by an answer which came from Holmsdale, that her father and mother knew everything. She was completely impassive in their hands; but apparently the Holmsdale wound had gone a little deeper than her mother had thought for. Edith spoke very little, and seemed cheerful at the thought of going to Paris. In a week she was with the Comtesse d'Aurilliac. Every letter from the comtesse breathed delighted admiration for her charming and beautiful pupil. Since madame had been forced by the lamentable occurrences of the Revolution (her two aunts perished in the September massacres) to take pupils, she had never had such a pupil as Edith. She was the admiration of every one who had seen her, and the brightest star in her little legitimist galaxy: everything went perfectly well for three months, and Sir John and Lady Hornbury were delighted. About this time there came to Sir John and Lady Hornbury a lumbering young nobleman of vast wealth, who was in some sort a connection of theirs; so near that they called him cousin. He called one morning to say that he was going to Paris, and to burden himself with any commissions to Edith. "I should like to see my old playmate very much," he said. "I was a lover of hers when we were in the schoolroom; I should like very much to see her once more, though I suppose she is getting too fine for me." There was not the slightest objection to his seeing as much of his cousin as he chose, and Lady Hornbury wrote a note in her best French (Madame d'Aurilliac did not speak English, nor did Lord Lumberton speak French), whereby the Comtesse d'Aurilliac was requested to receive Lord Lumberton as one of their own family. The comtesse received him in French, and he responded in English: he stayed on in Paris, and in two months the comtesse found it necessary to write to Lady Hornbury as follows: "MADAME,-My Lord Lumberton's visits are extremely frequent here, and I should be very glad to know your instructions as regards them. I have not the least reason to believe that anything has passed between milord and your beautiful daughter, but at the same time, madame, I think that he thinks of her a little more than he does of my other young ladies, while she treats him with merely the kindness of a cousin. I observe that in our little family parties she prefers dancing with M. de Rocroy, a gentleman of the very highest refinement and introduction, until lately gentleman-in-waiting to his most Christian Majesty Henri V. at Frohsdorf (whom may the holy saints have in their keeping!); M. de Rocroy, however, appears as indifferent to her as she is to him. This feeling of milord Lumberton's may ripen into an attachment, or it may not. I only await your instructions as to my management in this affair." | inclinations, I only want her to receive Lumberton's visits. If you don't wish Lumberton to see her, you are doing the very best thing to make her think more of him by sending him to the right-about without the ghost of a cause." Lady Hornbury gave way after a time, goodhumouredly. She was a woman, and, good and honest as she was, would very much have liked to have had Edith out in London, and to have gone through that game of chess with eligible suitors as castles and knights, and with ineligible suitors as pawns, in which every British mother delights. But she yielded; Lumberton would most certainly "do." She wrote to Madame d'Aurilliac at once before she went out, and, being in a hurry, wrote in English. What follows is part of her letter: "Both Sir John and I quite approve of Lord Lumberton's visits. Edith and he were cousins and playmates, and the matter is quite a family one. Which madame, with the aid of a dictionary, translated to mean that the two families had agreed on a mariage de convenance in the French fashion. The effect of this wonderful discovery on the part of madame was singularly delightful to Lord Lumberton, who was by this time honestly "What shall we do now?" said Lady Horn-head over heels in love with his cousin; and bury to her husband. "Do!" said Sir John. "Nothing at all. If Lumberton likes to fall in love with her, I don't see why we should put a spoke in his wheel. The lad is a good honest fellow enough, and would make any woman in the world happy. Old d'Aurilliac says that she doesn't care for him, so there is no immediate danger: let Lumberton go to her, but don't say anything to the girl herself. Write and tell old d'Aurilliac that we approve of his visits." 66 "But Edith is not out," said Lady Hornbury. 'My banker's book tells me that," said Sir John. "If she can make up her mind before she does come out, all the better for her." "He may gain her affections before she has had an opportunity of choosing." "That is precisely what happened to yourself, and if you don't regret it I am sure I don't; you know that we were engaged before you came out. No, there is not an unmarried man in London whom I would prefer to Lumberton." "But, Sir John, submissive as Edith is now, you must remember the time, not so very long ago, when she had both a will and temper of her own. Any attempt to force her inclina tions would be fatal.' "When will a woman learn to argue?" said Sir John, testily. "I don't want to force her also singularly and terribly disagreeable to poor Edith, who, for reasons of her own, was nearly out of her mind. Whenever Lord Lumberton came now he was left alone with her, Madame d'Aurilliac always quitting the room after a short time, with a far-seeing air, as though she was looking towards St. Petersburg to see if the ice was breaking up so as to allow of navigation; and the young ladies leaving also with that air of espiéglerie or archness of which some Parisian ladies are mistresses, and which has occasioned more than one British islander, while suffering from the spleen, to long to throw his boots at their heads. Lumberton desired to do nothing of the kind; he was in love, and he liked it, though sometimes he would have wished when they were alone that he had something to say for himself. Edith of course knew that he loved her, and she had no dislike for him, but would chat with him over old times, about his sisters, his horses, his dogs, and such things, which helped him on wonderfully. Edith knew that some day or another he would speak, and she was quite ready for him. Good fellow as he was, she would as soon have married a chiffonier. She never alluded to his attentions to her mother, and Madame d'Aurilliac only occasionally mentioned his presence at her house as a matter of form. So matters went on for months, until there came a cataclysm. Lady Hornbury received this letter: "MADAME,- When I receive a viper into my bosom, or a snake into my house, what do I do? I expel that snake or that viper. Madame, I have discovered a snake in the form of your daughter's maid, Rose Dawson, and I have expelled her with ignominy, having first had her boxes searched by warrant from the Juge d'Instruction. Madame, we found four thousand francs in gold, which we could not retain, so she is gone free. "My eyes, madame, have long been directed in a certain quarter. I have now, in consequence of the Revolution, to address my attention to the forming of young ladies. I have therefore an eye not readily deceived. I have noticed for a long time looks of intelligence pass between M. de Rocroy and your daughter's beautiful, but wicked, maid. I saw an intrigue, and I watched; last night they were in the shrubbery together for an hour, and at last I came on them as they were saying farewell. Him I banished my house at once, telling him that his sacred majesty Henri V. (whom the virgin and saints preserve till he comes to his own!) should hear of this violation of my hearth. Her I despatched as you have heard. I have broken the truth to your sweet and gentle daughter, who has acquiesced, though with sorrow." "I told you that girl was no good," said Sir John. "You had better send for her home and provide for her, or she will be talking about the Holmsdale business with emendations and additions. I shall, if Lumberton ever says anything to me about Edith, tell him the whole of that matter." "I suppose we ought," said Lady Hornbury. "If Lumberton cannot see how well she behaved, he is unworthy of her; but wait till he speaks, for it is not everybody's business. I don't think that he cares much for her. I hear nothing of it from Madame." "Cousin," she said, "if you think that I do not love you and respect you for what you have said, you are very much mistaken; but I vow before Heaven that if you ever speak to me like this again I will enter the Romish church and take the veil.” "Edith!" "Do you remember in old times my starving myself for a day because I was not allowed to go to Lady Maitland's children's ball?" "Yes, I remember it." "I will starve myself for good if you ever speak to me like this again. Now you must go; you must go at once." "Never to meet again?" "Never until you have given up all intention or hope of mentioning this subject to me." Then it is never," said the poor young gentleman. "Good-bye, Edith." And so he went. "I could have managed him in no other way," thought Edith, after he had gone. "Poor fellow! how happy he will make some good woman when he has forgotten me." On the 11th of April Lady Hornbury received the following telegram: - "D'Aurilliac, Rue St. Honoré, Paris, to Lady Hornbury, Portland Place, London. Come instantly. Frightful trouble about Edith." "What on earth is the matter now?" said Sir John. "I can't conceive," said Lady Hornbury. "Edith must be ill. I must hurry away. Put off the ball." And so we have got round to the beginning of the story again. We must, however, leave Lady Hornbury to go to Paris, and stay in London with Sir John for a short time. Sir John took his ride in the Park very comfortably in spite of Madame d'Aurilliac's telegram, he not believing that anything very great was the matter. During his ride he met with an old friend who inquired after his wife, and on being told that she was gone to Paris, asked Sir John to come and take dinner with him. Sir John declined, on the ground that his lawyer was coming to dine with him, and to discuss very particular business. "Indeed," he said, "old Compton is so very urgent and mysterious that he makes me a trifle uneasy: his news is very disagreeable, because he says that he will only discuss it after dinner." But Lumberton spoke very shortly afterwards. He spoke kindly, honestly, and tenderly. He said he would wait any time she chose, that she should come out and look round in the London world to see if there was any one she liked better, but that he would not take No as an answer now. He looked so noble and manly in his faith and honour, that for one instant she felt inclined to confide everything to him, but she felt a chill as she reflected that she was in France, and that a deadly dueling. would be the consequence. She had been ready for him very long, and she was ready for him now. "That looks bad," said his old friend, laugh"I'll bet you five pounds that you have lost some money." "I suppose I have," said Sir John. "I shall sell that horse and groom yonder. What and according to the other party's statements, will you give me for them?" that same son is alive." "I'll take the horse," said his old friend, "but I won't have the groom. You and your wife have an ugly trick of making your servants so comfortable that they are discontented everywhere else." So they parted, and Sir John went home to dinner at six, the hour in which he delighted, but at which he never was allowed to dine when Lady Hornbury was at home. Mr. Compton was very punctual, but was evidently very serious; and before dinner was over Sir John had calculated his losses at about from ten to twenty thousand pounds. When the servants were out of the room, and Mr. Compton proposed business, that gentleman looked so very grave that Sir John thought he should be well out of it with fifty thousand. "This is too monstrous to be true!" said Sir John. "I don't know what to make of it," said Mr. Compton. "You never can reckon on an angry woman. It would seem that she left with the lady superior at her death a packet which was not to be opened for twenty-four years. This trust was handed from one ladysuperior to another, and was opened last year only. It contains, according to the other party, the proofs of her marriage and of the birth of this boy, which the other party have verified and are prepared to bring into court to-morrow. The other party have a terrible case, and Watson and Hicks are about the most respectable and safe firm in London.' "Then I have never been Sir John Hornbury at all?" said Sir John, with a coolness which utterly astonished Mr. Compton. "If their story is right," said Mr. Compton. "We have got to see about that." "What became of this boy?" "He was given over to the Jesuits, and was brought up at Stonyhurst. His mother provided for him partly with the nine thousand pounds which she had drawn from the estate in three years, and partly from her own property, which was a very good one. The "Sir John, did you ever hear of your bro- Jesuits were honest stewards for the boy, acther, Sir Thomas's, domestic life?" "Yes," said Sir John. cording to Watson and Hicks, and although he refused to become a priest, the young man "Do you remember a certain Marchioness is pretty well off." de Toul?" "And poor Tom's connection with her? Certainly." "I fear that he married her." "Then why on earth did he keep his marriage secret?" "He was not proud of it," said Mr. Compton. "It was a discreditable affair from beginning to end. She found that by her conduct she had lost all claim upon society, and she led him a terrible life, accusing him, perhaps with reason, of having cut her off from the world she loved so well. She got terribly anxious about her future state-superstitiously so. She left him to enter a religious house at Amiens." "Yes," said Sir John. "I fear," said Mr. Compton, "that he had married her before she left him: in fact, I know it." "Good Heaven!" exclaimed Sir John. "Yes; and I fear that, out of mere spite to him and to his family, she concealed the fact that she had a son by him in that religious house. Such is apparently the case, however, "Do you believe this story?" Mr. Compton did not speak one word, but shook his head. "Ruin?" said Sir John, quietly. It looks very much like it," said Mr. Compton. "I have been busy about the thing without troubling you, and I cannot at present see that we have a leg to stand on. But I come to the strangest part of the whole story. This young man will make any compromise which you please on your own terms; will leave you in possession of the estates and title for your life; will do anything you can suggest, on one condition." "You amaze me. What is his condition?" "The hand of Miss Edith." "Like his impudence," exclaimed Sir John, "to ask Edith to marry him before she has seen him. Why, Compton," he went on, almost violently, "if Edith were to offer to save me by such an unnatural match, I would refuse my consent in such terms as would render a renewal of the offer impossible. I would sooner live in a garret on bread than consent to such Mr. Compton looked at his old friend with eyes which were brightened with admiration. "And this," he thought, "is the man whom the world calls mean in money matters, and jealous of his young wife?" "Sir John," he continued aloud, "I have something to tell you which will surprise you more than anything, my dear old friend. This young man has told Watson in confidence, and Watson has told me in confidence, that he not only knows Miss Edith, but is absolutely certain that he gained her affections eight months ago when she was staying with her aunt. Mr. Holmsdale says "What!" cried Sir John. "Mr. Holmsdale-by-the-by, I forgot to tell you that the young gentleman who claims to be Sir Richard Hornbury goes by the name of Holmsdale, which the Jesuits gave him (they seem to have given him none of their evil ways, for he is behaving very well)-Mr. Holmsdale says that he is absolutely certain that his attentions would not be disagreeable to Miss Edith, and should his claim, on examination, be allowed by you, he asks you to put the question to the young lady herself.' "Why, Compton," said Sir John, solemnly, striking his hand on the table, "Lady Hornbury and I sent that young man to the rightabout with a flea in his ear eight months ago. I believe Edith did care for him, though she behaved splendidly, sir; nobly." "Of that I have no doubt," said Mr. Compton. "Now the question is, supposing all things go wrong with us, will you -?" "You must ask her mother about that. If Edith really cares for the man, I would drop my title and live quietly at Huntly Bank on a thousand a year. I should be sorry to lose my servants and horses, but Mary could go into society as well as Mrs. Hornbury as she could as Lady Hornbury. No, if she cares for this man, and he is really the man "Of which we are not sure as yet," interrupted Mr. Compton. "Of which we are not sure as yet," repeated Sir John; "I would do anything I could for peace. For, Compton, we must not take this into court without a very good case; a better one than we have at present. I am not going to throw £100,000 into Watson and Hicks' lap, and leave you unpaid." "I'd fight the matter for you if you were bankrupt to-morrow, Sir John," exclaimed Mr. Compton. "I have not the least doubt of it at all, you obstinate old man. Now I will go to bed and sleep over it. I should like to see this Holmsdale. Have you any idea whether he knew of this when he first knew my daughter?" "Yes," said Mr. Compton, "as Watson pointed out to me, he had been to them about his claim before he ever saw her. His affection for her is utterly disinterested. When he got his dismissal from her he waited to see if he could see her again, and win her affections entirely without letting her know the fearful power in his hands. Watson says-and Watson knows young men pretty well-that Mr. Holmsdale will not move in the matter at all during your life unless Miss Edith marries some one else. That is Watson's opinion. I am of opinion that he might if he was to find a young lady more accessible than Miss Edith, but that is all guess-work. Has Miss Edith any predilections in another quarter?" "That good ass Lumberton seems smitten," said Sir John, "but I don't think old d'Aurilliac has given him much chance. Good night!" We must now leave Sir John to his own thoughts, and take flight to Paris, where the most terrible events were taking place. Lady Hornbury got to the Hôtel Meurice by two o'clock in the day, and by half-past two she was in the salon of Madame d'Aurilliac, in the Rue St. Honoré, awaiting that lady's pleasure with deep anxiety. She had not asked for Edith, considering it wiser to see the duenna herself. It is worthy of note that Lady Hornbury had been thinking matters over, and had come to the conclusion that Edith was not ill. Having allayed her maternal fears on this point without the least foundation, she had travelled on alone, and by thinking about her sea-sickness, the rumbling of the railway, and her postponed ball, she had arrived in Paris extremely cross, and was just nourishing a mortal hatred against Madame d'Aurilliac for having tele |