family, of course—with a very moderate property. She was left a widow young, with an only child, Caroline. Came to town, with a small jointure. The late Lady Montfort was very kind to her. So were we all—took her up—pretty woman— pretty manners—worldly—oh, very! I don't like worldly peo- ple. Well, but all of a sudden, a dreadful thing happened. The heir-at-law disputed the jointure, denied that Lyndsay had any right to make settlements on the Scotch property—very complicated business. But, luckily for her, Vipont Crooke's daughter, her cousin and intimate friend, had married Darrell —the famous Darrell—who was then at the bar. It is very useful to have cousins married to clever people. He was inter- ested in her case, took it up. I believe it did not come on in the courts in which Darrell practiced. But he arranged all the evidence, inspected the briefs, spent a great deal of his own money in getting up the case—and, in fact, he gained her cause, though he could not be her counsel. People did say that she was so grateful that, after his wife's death, she had set her heart on becoming Mrs. Darrell the second. But Darrell was then quite wrapped up in politics—the last man to fall in love —and only looked bored when women fell in love with him, which a good many did. Grand-looking creature, my dear, and quite the rage for a year or two. However, Mrs. Lyndsay all of a sudden went off to Paris, and there Montfort saw Caroline, and was caught. Mrs. Lyndsay, no doubt, calculated on living with her daughter, having the run of Montfort House in town and Montfort Court in the country. But Montfort is deeper than people think for. No, he never forgave her. She was never asked here—took it to heart, went to Rome, and died."
At this moment the door opened, and George Morley, now the Rev. George Morley, entered, just arrived to join his cousins.
Some knew him, some did not. Lady Selina, who made it a point to know all the cousins, rose graciously, put aside the slippers, and gave him two fingers. She was astonished to find him not nearly so shy as he used to be—wonderfully improved; at his ease, cheerful, animated. The man now was in his right place, and following hope on the bent of inclination. Few men are shy when in their right places. He asked after Lady Mont- fort. She was in her own small sitting-room, writing letters— letters that Carr Vipont had entreated her to write—corre- spondence useful to the House of Vipont. Before long, how- ever, a servant entered to say that Lady Montfort would be very
