Perfect tranquility reigned throughout the house, all, with the
exception of Sir Jasper, had retired to rest, and there was no sound,
save the ticking of the old-fashioned time-piece, with its monotonous
and never varying tick, tick, and the scratching noise made by the quill
as it traced its inky characters on the yet incomplete codicil the
Baronet was preparing. The candles had burned low in their sockets, and
the fire on the hearth had died out unheeded by him who sat writing line
after line. Suddenly a spasm seized him. He, with great difficulty,
raised himself from the stooping position over the escritoire, but as he
did so, another spasm, more violent than the first, attacked him. He
tried to call for assistance, but his tongue clove to his mouth. He was
suffocating. He stretched his arm towards the silver bell, which stood
on the table, but it was beyond his reach. His head sank on the cushion
of the chair. His eyes closed, another convulsive start, and all was
over. Sir Jasper Coleman was no more.

For many months past it was customary whenever it was known that Sir
Jasper would sit up late, for Mrs. Fraudhurst, on passing the door of
his chamber before descending to the breakfast room, to tap and enquire
whether the Baronet would come down to his breakfast or have it sent up
to him. On the following morning the widow on stopping at the chamber
door discovered that it was ajar, and on pushing it gently open found
the room was vacant, the bed undisturbed and, it was quite evident from
its general appearance, that Sir Jasper could not have passed the
night--or any part of it--there. Though startled a little at first, Mrs.
Fraudhurst was not long in coming to a conclusion as to what really had
happened during the night. It had more than once occurred to her active
mind that such might be the manner in which the Baronet's life would
terminate. "And the hour I so feared may have come at last," thought
she, as the consequences that might accrue to herself, should such turn
out to be the case, rose up before her; but she was equal to the
emergency; quickly and noiselessly she descended to the private library
and, without rapping, entered, closing the door quietly after her.

The morning sun streamed through the stained glass windows, casting
their brilliant hues full on the face of the corpse, rendering the pale
features more ghastly to look on than the convulsions had left them.
Mrs. Fraudhurst was a woman of strong mind, but no feeling, and the
presence of death had no terrors for her. She had entered, prepared in
her own mind for the spectacle that now presented itself. Her plans had
been already arranged, but she had hardly counted on their being so
easily executed. With a firm hand she took up the will and unfinished
codicil, folded them, and placed them carefully in the bosom of her
dress. She now took up the bunch of keys, and replacing the centre
drawer, locked it and dropped the bunch of keys into one of the pockets
of Sir Jasper's dressing gown, and finding that the open letter related
to general business connected with the estate and some charitable
institution, left them as she found them, and without one look of pity
or regret on her now flushed face towards him to whose liberality she
had for years been indebted for a home, with all the comforts and
conveniences of life, left the apartment and regained her own chamber
without meeting or being seen by any one. Her first act was to securely
lock up the papers so feloniously obtained, then, applying cold water to
her heated brow, to wait for the ringing of the second bell for
breakfast. She could hear the voice of Edith, as her laugh rang out upon
the lawn beneath her open window, at the gambols of the two greyhounds.

"Reynolds, ascertain whether Sir Jasper will have his breakfast sent up
to him," said Mrs. Fraudhurst, as she and, Edith took their seats at the
table, some twenty minutes later.

Edith did not speak, but waited patiently to know if her uncle would
come down. There had been a growing coolness between her and the lady
who headed the table. She could not but think that there was some
complicity between her and Ralph Coleman with respect to herself. She
could not tell why this should be, but could not divest herself of the
idea, nevertheless.

"My master is not in his own room, and has not slept in his bed,"
hurriedly exclaimed Reynolds, re-entering the breakfast room. Edith
started up, visibly agitated, but not so with the widow, she coolly
said, "you had better look in at the library, he was writing there late
last night and may probably have thrown himself on the lounge, and
fallen asleep there."

"I will go with you," Edith said to the old servant, as she proceeded a
little in advance of him.

Mrs. Fraudhurst sat staring blankly out of the window waiting for the
result, which she knew must ensue. A loud shriek from Edith rang through
the house, and breathless with excitement, Reynolds entered and
announced Sir Jasper's death and that Miss Effingham had fainted.

The time for action had now arrived. "He may be only in a fit," said
Mrs. Fraudhurst. "I will myself drive over for Dr. Martin. Call Miss
Effingham's maid and let her be carried to her own room and properly
attended to. I will return with all speed; in the meantime, Reynolds, be
sure that no one enters the room. You had better lock the door and take
possession of the key as soon as Miss Edith has been removed." After
quickly dressing, she proceeded towards the stables to hurry forward the
harnessing of the pony phaeton, which was at all times at her disposal,
and drove rapidly to the house of Dr. Martin, though she well knew his
services would be of no avail, but it was a part of the plan she had
matured, and was now carrying out.

Fortunately for her the Rector and Sir Jasper's lawyer and general
business agent were at the time with the Doctor in his surgery,
consulting on some Parish business and without a moment's delay they
proceeded to Vellenaux, the Rector riding with Mrs. Fraudhurst, whose
appearance and conduct were well suited to the occasion.

Life was pronounced extinct, and the cause of death was supposed to be a
sudden attack of his old complaint, disease of the heart. The lawyer, in
the presence of all, placed seals on the escritoire and doors of the
study immediately after the body had been transferred to the bedchamber,
and wrote to Ralph Coleman, as the only male relation of the late
Baronet, acquainting him with what had occurred, and it was not long
before that gentleman presented himself at Vellenaux.




CHAPTER VII.


The morning prior to the funeral it pleased Mrs. Fraudhurst, on meeting
Ralph Coleman in the long corridor, to request that worthy individual to
grant her a private interview in the general library at eleven o'clock,
precisely, the lawyer bowed in the affirmative and passed on.

At the time appointed the widow, in very deep but fashionable mourning,
entered the library by one door, and a few minutes later the new baronet
presented himself at another. After closing it he advanced to the centre
table and waited for the lady to announce the nature of her business
with him.

In a low, clear and cold, but perfectly steady voice she thus addressed
him, "Some two years since I informed you by letter of the existence of
a will in which the late baronet, after paying a gratuity of five
thousand pounds to Arthur Carlton, left Miss Effingham sole heiress. In
that will the name of Ralph Coleman does not appear. If this document be
read to-morrow," she continued after a slight pause, "Vellenaux is lost
to you forever."

"But, my dear madam," he replied, "among the late baronet's papers will,
doubtless, be found a codicil in my behalf, in fact my cousin distinctly
promised me that he would make a suitable provision for the successor to
the title."

"And so he would have done had he lived long enough to complete it," was
the lady's quiet reply.

"You do not mean to say that you are certain Sir Jasper made no such
provision," enquired the lawyer in a quick and excited tone.

"No document of that kind had been executed prior to the baronet's
death," she boldly asserted, advancing towards him. "Now listen to me:
providing the will in question be not forthcoming after the funeral, the
law will declare you heir to the estate. Now, if you swear to me by all
that you hold most sacred, that you will allow me one thousand per annum
and a suite of apartments at Vellenaux so long as I shall live, no will
shall appear, and within one hour after the body of the late Sir Jasper
has been consigned to the tomb, you shall become Sir Ralph Coleman and
master of Vellenaux and its broad lands."

"But," was the cautious reply of the wily lawyer, "how know I that any
will has been made or that the Baronet has not kept faith with me. Your
word is all that I have to depend on for the truth or falsity of the
statement." He knew her to be an unscrupulous woman, but shrewd withal,
and could not bring himself to believe that she would compromise herself
so far as to have fraudulently possessed herself of, Sir Jasper's
papers, yet her language indicated very strongly that something of the
kind was the case.

"If she really has them," he thought, "one thousand per annum would not
be too large a sum to purchase her silence concerning them; and as the
bargain would be a verbal one, and unknown to any but ourselves, she
could not hereafter, by any disclosures that she might make, convict me
as an accomplice to the transaction." These thoughts flashed through his
mind ere she again spoke.

"Your words, sir, though not complimentary to me, I can excuse, on
account of the peculiarity of your present position and frame of mind,
and you shall be satisfied of the truth of that which you pretend to
doubt," and drawing from her pocket two papers, Mrs. Fraudhurst held
them with a firm grasp before him, but in such a position that it
enabled him to read every line. "There," she continued, in a low tone,
"is the will in question, and the codicil which you so much depend on;
are you satisfied?" Then, refolding the papers somewhat hastily,
replaced them in her dress and turned to leave the room, remarking as
she did so, "I shall return in a few moments, and you must make up your
mind as to how you intend to act before I do so."

Ralph had read every line and word, and saw how hopeless was his case
unless he closed with the widow's offer, but he would make one more
trial to obtain the best position, and as she re-entered said, "Place
those documents in my possession and I will swear to fulfil the terms
you propose."

"Not so," she replied with a contemptuous curl on her lip, "they remain
with me, and I remain here; there will be no difficulty in that. Of
course Miss Effingham must find shelter beneath your roof for some time
at least, and as you are a single man, you will require some one to
superintend your establishment until the future Lady Coleman shall
appear on the scene, and ere that event takes place, other arrangements
can be made. Accept my conditions and you become one of the wealthiest
men in the county. Reject them, and I immediately place both documents
in the hands of the late Baronet's lawyer, who is now in the house. I
have merely to say that I gathered them from the floor of the study, on
the morning of Sir Jasper's death, and that, in the hurry and excitement
of the moment, carried them to my own room, unconscious of their
importance, until this morning. This statement, true or otherwise, will
suffice to account for their being in my possession"

Ralph Coleman would have still hesitated, but her's being the stronger
will of the two, he succumbed, took the required oath, and the compact
between them was complete. No sooner was this effected than both parties
left the place of meeting in the same order as they entered.

Having carried her point and thus secured for herself a comfortable
income, together with a handsome suite of apartments within the walls of
Vellenaux, which she very naturally concluded would be a permanent home,
at least during the life of Sir Ralph, he being completely in her power,
as she could at any time, by the production of the late Baronet's will,
drive him ignominiously from his present luxurious abode. It is true, in
effecting this she would have to seek refuge in a foreign land, yet a
vindictive spirit will often, as the old adage runs, cut off the nose to
be revenged on the face.

Having gained the mastery of the position, she turned her thoughts in
the direction of the new Baronet with a view of inducing him to submit
to the matrimonial yoke and by that means establish herself as
Vellenaux's envied mistress with the prefix of Lady before her name.
However, she could afford to bide her time, feeling certain that in the
long run Sir Ralph would yield, her stronger will working on his fears.


The funeral was over. The family vault of the Coleman's in the quaint
old church, a little beyond the Park limits, had received the mortal
remains of the worthy man, who for forty years had attended divine
service within that sacred edifice where the last sad rite for the
departed had just been performed. It had been a solemn and imposing
ceremony. The cortege passed slowly and silently down the broad avenue
of venerable elms, through the Park gate and up the road leading to the
old church yard. The superbly mounted coffin, borne on its funeral
hearse, whose black plumes, undulated in the soft winds that sighed
through the trees, was drawn by six velvet palled horses, and
accompanied by mutes, pall bearers and others in all the solemn
paraphernalia of woe, followed by the mourning coaches, and the long
line of private carriages, some occupied and others empty, for by one of
the conventionalities of English well-bred society, one can be present
on such occasions by proxy. Your carriage will suffice, should you not
feel equal to the task of attending in person. The full, deep, rich
tones of the organ poured forth the funeral dirge, as the coffin was
carried up the centre aisle and placed on trussels in front of the
altar. The pews, gallery and aisles were filled by rich and poor; so
much had the late Baronet been respected by friend and tenant. The
venerable Rector who performed the service, although accustomed to such
scenes, was deeply affected. He had been on the most intimate terms with
Sir Jasper, and had never solicited his kind offices on behalf of the
poor in vain. Besides, he was more advanced in years than the friend
whom he had now consigned to the cold embraces of the grave, for were
not his own days numbered and must soon draw to a close?

As the different parties separated on the conclusion of the ceremony,
various were the comments and conjectures as to the manner in which Sir
Jasper had divided his property, and it was almost universally believed
that Miss Edith would come in for a greater part of his wealth and the
estate of Vellenaux would undoubtedly become hers.

Sir Ralph, as he must now be called, and others interested in such
proceedings, returned, to Vellenaux to examine and hear read the will
and such other documents relating to the distribution of the property
real and personal of the late Baronet, and great was the surprise of all
present except one, when it was announced that, after the strictest
search, no will or other document of the kind had been found among the
papers of the late Baronet. Mr. Russell, a man of integrity, and well
known for the uprightness of his dealings, and who had for upwards of
thirty years transacted all the legal business and had the management of
the estate of the late Sir Jasper, declared that, to the best of his
knowledge no will had been made. This was followed by a statement from
Sir Ralph to the effect that it was but a few weeks since, that his
cousin, the late Sir Jasper Coleman, had declared to him his intention
of making a will in his (Sir Ralph's) favor. Miss Effingham, on being
asked, had sent word that she had never heard her uncle say anything on
the subject, and Mrs. Fraudhurst, on being interrogated, announced that
she had always been of the opinion that Miss Effingham was to be sole
heiress of her uncle's wealth, but had never heard Sir Jasper speak of
having actually made any will at all. Consequently the law gave to Sir
Ralph Coleman the entire property of the late Baronet, whose much-loved
niece was thus left a penniless orphan.

Old Reynolds, who had been in the library when it was announced the
Baronet had left no will, and that the entire property fell to his
cousin, Sir Ralph, immediately summoned the domestics in the servants'
hall and related to his astonished hearers what he had heard.
Consternation was depicted on the countenance of all, and a wordy
colloquy ensued as to what would become of their dear young mistress,
and whether they would be discharged to make room for others whom the
new Baronet might choose to appoint. The grey-headed old Butler had been
at Vellenaux since he was a lad of fourteen, and had known Colonel
Effingham, who had frequently, prior to leaving the service, visited his
old companion-in-arms, Sir Jasper Coleman, at his favorite residence,
felt much concerned that the niece of his old master should have been
left unprovided for. "Of course," Said Annette, Edith's own maid "I
shall have to return home, for I do not suppose Miss Effingham will
remain here very long, as Sir Ralph is a bachelor, and I know for
certain that she dislikes him exceedingly."

"But what will madam, the widow, do," enquired the footman.

"Set her cap at him as she did at our poor, dear old master," responded
the housekeeper, "No fear, she will take care not to be a loser by the
change." "She will, no doubt," suggested another, "keep house for Sir
Ralph until he brings home a Lady Coleman, or is persuaded into marrying
the widow herself."

It was quite evident, that sympathy ran high in Edith's favour, and that
they cared not a jot for the ex-governess or the new master. But they
were too well trained to betray what they thought concerning the two
last named persons.

The matter was duly talked over throughout the neighbourhood. Some shook
their heads but said nothing, and others said a great deal that meant
nothing. The Bartons sent a very kind and sympathizing letter to Edith
in which they offered her an asylum at the Willows, should she think a
little change of scene would in any way reconcile her to the loss she
had sustained, they having heard that Miss Effingham had in her grief
declined for the present to receive her most intimate friends and
acquaintances.

For many days after the funeral Edith kept within the seclusion of her
own chamber, alas, hers now no longer, but the property of another and
of one whose presence was repugnant to her. With returning consciousness
also came the realization of the sad spectacle that had met her view in
the private library. She had loved and respected her uncle, and had ever
looked up to him as a father, which he had indeed been since the death
of her parents, whom she did not recollect, and grief for his loss had
outweighed all other thoughts and considerations for the future, and for
the first week she gave herself up to inconsolable sorrow. But at length
that practical good sense with which nature had endowed her, came to her
relief. She stifled the rising sobs in her young bosom and prepared to
face the stern realities of life, which must ere long, she knew, force
themselves upon her.

To remain in the house of the man she so despised and whose proffered
vows of love she had so indignantly rejected, was impossible.

Of the malady which was the cause of her uncle's sudden death, she knew
nothing. He had never hinted of its existence, therefore she was totally
unprepared and inexpressibly shocked at the suddenness with which he had
been struck down, and it was some time before she could sufficiently
subdue her agitated feelings to enable her to give any instructions to
the household, who, like herself, had been almost stupefied by the
calamity.

But not so with Mrs. Fraudhurst; that cold, unfeeling woman cared only
for the safety of her own position, and had already arranged what she
should do. At her suggestion, no changes were made in the establishment.
Every servant was retained, and the business of the estate still left in
the hands of Mr. Russell, the former agent, and matters soon resumed
their usual routine, as though the late proprietor was merely absent on
a visit.

Notwithstanding the precautions taken in order to prevent suspicion from
gaining ground that there had been any complicity between Sir Ralph and
the widow, which might account for the absence of any legal document
making a suitable provision for that niece to whom Sir Jasper was so
sincerely attached, there were many who could not divest themselves of
the idea that there had been foul play practiced in some way, but as
there was nothing tangible to go upon they were compelled to confine
their suspicions within their own breasts, and show their sympathy for
Miss Effingham by letters of condolence and offers of friendship and
protection should she need them; for of course, it was understood by all
that her position was materially altered by the apparent fact that Sir
Jasper had died intestate.

Both Mrs. Fraudhurst and Sir Ralph were struck with the visible inroad
that grief had made in the pale but still beautiful features of Edith,
as she entered the drawing room for the first time since her uncle's
funeral.

The new Baronet rose as if to conduct her to a seat, but there was
something in her eye and manner that checked him, and he contented
himself with bowing to her somewhat stiffly, and resumed his chair. She
advanced toward the table at which he was seated, with a coolness and
self-possession so natural to her, whenever placed in any awkward and
trying position; her elegant figure fully developed by the tight fitting
habit she wore, and the ringlets of her rich brown hair falling upon her
magnificent shoulders from beneath her black riding hat, and in a voice
calm, clear and distinct, but without the least bitterness or anger,
thus addressed him: "Sir Ralph Coleman, the law, I am told, pronounces
you master of Vellenaux and its broad acres. The death of my uncle has
left me without a home, but, I trust, not without friends. Do not
interrupt me, sir," said she, seeing that he was about to speak, "Your
importunities and ungenerous conduct previous to the death of my late
lamented uncle and more than father, would, in itself, be a sufficient
inducement for me to take the step I am now about to do. It is my
intention to leave Vellenaux this morning for the Willows, and request
that my personal effects and such property as may have been presented to
me by my late uncle may be sent to me there." Then, with a slight
inclination of the head towards him, and without a word or glance in the
direction of Mrs. Fraudhurst, who was seated at the open window,
examining the contents of the post bag, turned and left the apartment.
Her intended departure had been made known to the whole of the household
by Annette, and, much to her surprise, she found all the servants
assembled in the hall to pay their respects to her as she quitted the
only home she had ever known. Edith felt deeply their respectful
sympathy and parted from them with unfeigned regret. Poor old Bridoon at
the Lodge felt keenly for his young mistress, and could not refrain from
expressing to her, as she wished him farewell, that there was something
wrong about the absence of any will or other document. He would not
believe that his dear old master would put off making a provision for
his niece until it was too late, and he sincerely hoped that he might
live to see the day of her return to Vellenaux as its mistress. This
feeling was shared alike by tenantry and servants, for they all had, in
some way, been indebted to her for acts of kindness.

"You have been too precipitate, and frightened the bird away," remarked
Mrs. Fraudhurst. "But," continued she, after a moment's pause, "perhaps
it is as well she has taken this step. Her presence here is now no
longer necessary. You have the property without the encumbrance."

Whatever Sir Ralph's opinions on the subject might have been he did not
express them; but in his inmost heart he wished that she had remained
under his roof, for time, he thought, would cause her to change her
mind, and think more favorably of his suit, and once his wife, she could
not give evidence against him should the affair of the stolen will ever
come to her knowledge. He distrusted his partner in crime, and avoided
as much as possible being left alone with her.

In the Bartons Edith found true friends, Julia and Emily doing
everything in their power to render her stay with them as agreeable as
possible. The pretty Mrs. Horace, who, from the first, had taken a great
interest in her, now felt a real desire to serve one who, by the force
of circumstances over which she had no control, had been left, as it
were, alone in the world, and that, too, at an age and with such
personal attractions as usually require the most careful watching of
parent or guardian, and it entered her pretty head that she could serve
her friend most effectually and at the same time secure for herself that
which was so much needed in her Indian home in the far East, a personal
friend and companion. Good, easy Horace, she knew, would not object, and
scarcely had Edith been one week at the Willows before she had unfolded
to her the scheme she had worked out for their mutual benefit; and
meeting the approval of the whole family, Edith was only too happy to
accompany Mrs. Barton on her return to Calcutta, for, thought she, I
have no relative in England to miss me, or mourn for me, but in India I
perhaps have, and her thoughts wandered to Arthur Carlton and the
probability of their meeting in the land beyond the seas. After a few
weeks' longer residence in Devonshire, the pretty little wife of the
Judge, accompanied by Edith, left by the overland route to return to her
home in the City of Palaces. And such was the effect on Edith of change
of scene and a life so entirely new to her, among a people whose habits,
manners and customs were strangely at variance with anything she had
hitherto experienced, and she now remembered, with feelings of emotion
softened by time, that uncle, whose death she had so deeply lamented,
that her health and spirits gradually returned, and with them that
beauty, which had adorned her before her sad bereavement, and for a few
years her residence in India was in no way distasteful to her. During
this time she had frequently heard of Arthur Carlton, but they had only
met twice, his regiment being employed at so great a distance from
Calcutta in settling some disturbances among the Rohillas of Rohilcund,
that it was very difficult for a subaltern to obtain leave of absence.

A few weeks after her return, Mrs. Barton had written to Arthur,
acquainting him with the fact of Edith's being in the country, and
certain circumstances connected with the death of Sir Jasper Coleman,
and wound up by giving him a special invitation to Chowringee for a few
weeks. This she had done out of kindness to Edith, for she had some
suspicion of how that young lady might be influenced by the presence of
the playmate of her childhood.

Carlton received this intelligence with the utmost astonishment. He had
been in complete ignorance of the Baronet's death and the changes that
had taken place at Vellenaux. His last two letters to Edith had remained
unanswered, or at least he had not received them. But he little knew
that Mrs. Fraudhurst had taken possession of the post bag and abstracted
therefrom Edith's letters to him as well as those he had sent to her.
She had some apprehensions that he might contrive to make his appearance
at Vellenaux at a time it was least expected or desired by either
herself or Sir Ralph Coleman. His next feeling was that of joy at the
thought of again meeting her, and at the idea that she was to remain in
the same country perhaps for several years. As has been mentioned
before, no direct words of love had passed between them, and it was not
until the mighty ocean had divided them that he had realized how dear
she was to him, or the strength or depth of his love for her. In his
heart he secretly rejoiced that Sir Jasper's estate had passed into
other hands, for what chance had he, a poor Lieutenant of Dragoons, in
aspiring to the hand of the beautiful Edith, heiress of Vellenaux.

He lost no time in procuring the required furlough, and at their first
meeting, the four missing letters were commented upon, and their
non-delivery ascribed to the right party, namely, Mrs. Fraudhurst, as
they wandered together down the pomegranate and orange groves in the
cool of the evening, or pacing the broad, open verandah beneath the star
lit sky.

"I think, Carlton, you must be in high feather with the Colonel, or your
lucky star is in the ascendant," said Captain Hastings to our young
hero, a few days after his return from Calcutta, as they rode home from
stables together.

"How so? What is in the mind now?" enquired Arthur, as he reined his
horse nearer to that of his companion.

"Why, there is another row among those fellows in Bundlecund, and a
squadron of our regiment has been ordered out. My troop and yours have
been selected for the business, and as your Captain is in Europe and the
other two troop commanders absent from headquarters, you are to have
charge on, this occasion. I command the squadron, so they may look out
for hard knocks if we get a chance at them. I will teach the blackguards
a lesson they will not forget for some time. They will find no
philanthropy or mistaken clemency about me, and to tell you the truth, I
would rather have you for my second in command than either Dalzell or
Harcly."

"Many thanks for your good opinion; and depend upon it I shall not be
backward in proving its correctness, should an opportunity offer,"
responded Arthur, as they entered the mess room.

The affair in Bundlecund proved a more obstinate contest than had been
at first expected, and lasted for a considerable time. But the coolness
and determination of the light Dragoons were too much for them,
consequently the disturbance was quelled, but not before a large number
of the rascals had been made to bite the dust. Here, as in
Chillianwalla, Carlton's bravery and skill, as a troop leader, were
conspicuous, and he well merited the encomiums that were poured upon him
by his brother officers on the return of the squadron from the disturbed
districts, now in a tranquil state.




CHAPTER VIII.


Such of our readers as may have been acquainted with the West end of
London some thirty-five years since, must recollect old Cavendish
Square. Prior to that date it had been very exclusive, but on Belgravia
and Tybernia springing into existence, the nobility and aristocratic
families moved from there to the new suburban localities, and their old
quarters were occupied by quite a different class, which had migrated
principally from that region east of Temple Bar, such as merchants,
bankers, eminent barristers, and physicians of first standing. One of
the main avenues leading from this square westward, and known as Harley
Street, was inhabited by another set, usually styled very respectable
people, chiefly consisting of maiden ladies of doubtful ages, who kept
their carriages and lived in good style, whist playing dowagers, who
kept their carriages but hired job horses, when it was necessary to
visit their friends whose circumstances were more flourishing than their
own, and the families of country members who usually remained in town
daring the session of Parliament, and often for a much longer period. It
was in this street and in this circle that the Cotterells lived and
moved. Mr. Cotterell, the father of Kate--the prettiest Kate in all that
locality, at least, so Tom Barton said, and he ought to know for he had
seen her often, and never failed to get his face as close to hers as
possible whenever a chance presented itself for his so doing--was a
retired stock broker who, having made a considerable hit in a great
speculation by which he realized a handsome sum, prudently took the
advice of his spouse and let well enough alone, retired from business,
left their dusky residence in the city, and moved to their present
abode, No. 54 Upper Harley Street. Mrs. Cotterell was the youngest
sister of Mrs. Barton of the Willows, in Devonshire, hence the
relationship between our friend, Tom Barton, and pretty cousin Kate, the
charm of whose gay and lively manners had made quite an impression on
the susceptible heart of cousin Tom, which increased and strengthened
during the frequent visits of that young lady to her aunt's in
Devonshire. Nor was it a one sided affair, for she had been captivated
by the handsome person and agreeable address of her cousin, but being
petit in stature, she was like most little beauties, very arbitrary and
capricious towards her lover, yet, with all this, she was a girl of
good, sound sense, and knowing that her portion on the death of her
parents would be but small, would not consent to entangle herself in the
meshes of matrimony until Tom had established himself in his profession,
and there was a fair prospect of their succeeding in life.

It will be remembered that Tom Barton left for London about the same
time that Arthur Carlton started for India. He had been more fortunate
than could have been expected in the profession he had chosen, for he
had scarcely been three years turning over musty deeds, copying legal
documents and other drudgeries appertaining to a lawyer's office, when
his employer died, leaving him the business and recommending him to the
notice of his clients generally. Now, although Tom's chambers were
situated in Lincoln's Inn Fields which everybody knows (who knows
anything of London) is a large, airy space, surrounded with iron
railings, wherein there are plenty of trees, flowers, grasses, and
gravel walks to stroll about in, all of which could be seen from his
chamber window. But this was not sufficient for him. He wanted something
more suburban and evidently considered the atmosphere north of Oxford
street more conducive to his health, or he would never have imposed upon
himself the task of walking from Lincoln's Inn so far westward up Harley
Street. Yet, although the air must have been more pure some half a mile
further on, he never by any chance, succeeded in getting beyond No. 54.

There was also another gentleman who found it convenient and agreeable
to walk in the same direction and stop at the same house. This for some
time perplexed our friend, Tom, and gave him considerable uneasiness in
the region of the heart. His first business was to discover who he was;
this did not take long to accomplish, but he was more puzzled than ever;
there was no one ill at No. 54, and the gentleman turned out to be a
physician of good standing, residing in Cavendish Square. He dared not
speak to Kate on the subject, for fear of committing himself and
becoming exposed to that little lady's raillery, for he well knew that
she would torment him unmercifully if he betrayed the least sign of
jealousy. Wishing to be satisfied on a point that so troubled him, he
determined to sound his aunt on the matter. He was a great favourite
with her, and she was not likely to betray him to his lady love.

"Very quiet, gentlemanly sort of person, Doctor Ashburnham; don't you
think so," he enquired of his aunt one evening, as they were seated
alone in the drawing room on Harley Street?

"It is well that you are that way of thinking, for he has the same
opinion of you," remarked Mrs. Cotterell with a quiet smile. "Do you
remember to have met him anywhere but in London?" she asked, after a few
moments' pause.

Tom shook his head and replied, "I think not, but perhaps I may have
seen him somewhere. I meet all sorts of people."

"Well, well, your sister Julia is coming up to town some evening next
week, and she is such a clever girl, perhaps she can enlighten you on
the subject."

Tom stared at his aunt for a moment, then the mist began to clear away.
It now struck him that he had never met the Doctor in Harley Street
except during the time that his sister was on a visit there, and it also
occurred to him now, that on his last flying visit to Devonshire he had
met a gentleman much resembling Doctor Ashburnham, riding with Julia in
one of the green lanes in Vellenaux. It was all dear enough now, it was
Julia's lover who had given him so much concern of late, and this fact
removed a great load from Tom's heart. On this discovery his face
brightened up. "But, my dear aunt, is there really anything in it."

"Anything in what?" enquired the good lady, looking up from her
knitting, somewhat amused at the manner in which her nephew had put the
question.

"Why, I mean, is there any love affair, engagement or that sort of thing
between Julia and the Doctor?"

"Well, Tom, all I can say is, that Doctor Ashburnham seldom calls here
except during the time your sister is in London, or occasionally pays
us a visit to enquire when she is likely to be in town again. They have
met, I believe, in Devonshire, and he has visited her at the Willows. He
is certainly very attentive to her when she is with us, and she appears
to be anything but indifferent to his addresses; you can draw your own
conclusions from that, but, as I before stated, she will be here next
week and then, perhaps, she may take you into her confidence. I can say
no more on the matter."

"By George! I hope it is as you say. It would be a capital match for
her. He has a first rate practice, keeps quite a stylish turn out, and
occupies a handsome house in Cavendish Square. I must become more
intimate with him, and see if I cannot worm out exactly what he is
driving at." Here Tom took his hat, and started down stairs three steps
at a time, nearly upsetting the Doctor in the hall in his great hurry.
"Beg pardon, my dear sir, quite accidental I assure you; in haste to
speak to Mr. Cotterell in the library," said Tom apologetically.

"Don't mention it, pray, Mr. Barton," was the reply, as that gentleman
quickly ascended the staircase leading to the drawing room.

Now, Tom really had no business with Mr. Cotterell that evening, nor
would he have intruded on that worthy person, but for his encounter with
the Doctor. He would, he thought, not remain long with his aunt, and it
would be a good opportunity to push his enquiries, could he but manage
to go out with him. His anticipations proved correct. The Doctor did not
remain long up stairs, and our friend Tom managed to meet him again as
he was passing through the hall.

"Fine evening, sir; which way are you walking?" said Tom, seeing no
vehicle in attendance.

"I am returning to Cavendish Square, sir," was the ready reply.

"I also am going in that direction, and if you have no objection will
walk with you," returned Tom Barton. The two gentlemen walked together,
chatting in a very friendly way on the different topics of the day until
they had reached the door of the Doctor's residence, when that gentleman
surprised Tom by saying, "Mr. Barton, will you do me the favor to step
in for a few moments? I wish to speak to you on a subject that cannot
very well be discussed in the public street." Nothing loath, Tom agreed
and was ushered into a very snug apartment, half library, half smoking
divan.

"You smoke, of course," said the Doctor, pointing at the same time to an
array of pipes and tobacco of different kinds on a small side table.
Fill, then, drop into that easy chair, and I will tell you why I have
requested you to enter my snuggery. Tom acted upon his suggestion, and
was soon sending great puffs of smoke half way across the room. His host
followed this very laudable example, and after a few whiffs, at once
opened the business by candidly, and in a straightforward, manner,
telling Tom the great love and admiration he felt for Miss Barton, whom
he had frequently met in Devonshire as well as in London, and that he
had vanity enough to believe that his love was reciprocated, and
declared his intention on Julia's arrival to decide the affair by making
her an offer of his hand and heart, and finished by requesting Tom to
forward his views to the best of his ability.

To this Tom readily assented. "The sly little puss," he continued, "not
to mention a word of it even to me. But I suppose it is not considered
by the fair sex quite the thing to speak to any one on so delicate a
subject until after the gentleman has popped the question." Shortly
after, he took his departure for his chambers at Lincoln's Inn, and it
was noticed that Doctor Ashburnham and Mr. Tom Barton were seen more
frequently together than had hitherto been the case.

Miss Barton arrived, as had been expected by her relatives in Harley
Street, and the physician from Cavendish Square called there every day,
although there was no illness or epidemic in the house, save that known
as the heart disease, and so earnestly did the Doctor press his suit
that Julia must have been hard-hearted indeed to have refused to add to
his happiness by encumbering him with a wife, and ere she returned to
Devonshire, it was finally settled that the wedding was to take place at
the end of the following month, and a very dashing affair it proved. The
lawn sleeves at Saint George's, Hanover Square, were called into
requisition on the occasion. There was a great display of white corded
silk, lace orange blossoms, muslins and wreaths of white roses. Gunter,
of Berkly square, was called upon to supply a wedding breakfast, which
was partaken of at the Cotterells', and after some champagne had been
drank, and the speeches usual on the occasion made, the happy pair
started on their wedding tour through the South of England, calling, of
course, at the Willows on their way. After visiting Scotland they
returned to London, and settled comfortably down to the humdrum of
every day life in the Doctor's handsome establishment in Cavendish
Square, which had been re-decorated and furnished for them during their
absence.