lawyer who would assume the responsibility
of looking after her interests. Cesare could
not be got to understand Mr. Frost's motives
for not conducting the case himself, but
Veronica declared that she understood them.

Meanwhile there had been several
interviews between Mr. Lane and the respective
lawyers of Sir Matthew Gale and Veronica.

Mr. Simpson, Veronica's lawyer, of
course, quickly perceived that the new
baronet had no interest in establishing the
validity of the will. If it were established
he inherited nothing beyond the entailed
estate; if it were set aside he would receive
a certain proportion of the personal
property. Sir Matthew's lawyer, Mr. Davis,
perceived this also as soon as he was made
acquainted with the contents of the will. It
had been read at Mr. Lane's office, there
being present Sir Matthew, Mr. Frost, the
agent—-who, it will be remembered, was
named executor—-and the two lawyers
above-mentioned.

Mr. Simpson, a heavy-mannered, pasty-
faced man, with two dull black eyes, like
currants stuck in dough, conceived the idea
of making Sir Matthew acquainted with
his client. Their interests were nearly
identical, and he felt that it would be a
desirable thing for "Lady Gale" to be
recognised by the late baronet's successor. He
trusted, too, to the effects of the lady's
personal influence on the shy, awkward,
provincial bachelor.

The meeting was consequently brought
about.

"It can do you no harm to call on her,
Sir Matthew," said Mr. Davis. "It would
not prejudice your case to say she was Lady
Tallis Gale fifty times over."

"I—-I—-I wish to do what's right, Davis.
It's ticklish work, meddling with wills, you
know."

"Meddling! God forbid, my dear Sir
Matthew! But this either is a will, or it
is not, you see. That is what we have got
to prove. If it is a will, the dispositions
of the testator must be held sacred—-sacred.
If it is not a will, you observe, the testator's
intentions are——In short, it is quite
another matter," responded Mr. Davis,
winding up a little abruptly.

Sir Matthew called at the hotel at which
Veronica was staying. He was
accompanied at his own request by Mr. Davis,
and, on sending up their cards, they were
both ushered into Veronica's presence.

She was dressed in deep mourning, of
the richest materials, and most elegant
fashion, and looked strikingly lovely.

"I am glad to see you, Sir Matthew,"
she said, making him a superb courtesy,
which so embarrassed him, that in his
attempt to return it by as good a bow as he
knew how to make, he backed upon Mr.
Davis, and nearly hustled him into the
fireplace.

"It is naturally gratifying to me to be
on good terms with my late husband's
family," pursued Veronica, when the two
men were seated.

"Thank you, ma'am—I mean my—my
lady—that is——Of course, you know,
we must mind what we're about, and do
what's right and just, and not make any
mistakes, you know. That was always my
rule when I was in business."

"An excellent rule!"

"Yes. And as to your late—as to Sir
John Gale's family—I don't suppose you
ever heard much good of them from him,
ma'am. My cousin John was an
overweening kind of a man. But we come of
the same stock, him and me."

"Certainly."

"Yes. We come of the same stock.
There's no doubt of that in the world."

Sir Matthew rubbed his knee round and
round with his handkerchief, which he had
doubled up into a ball for the purpose;
and looked at every part of the room save
that in which Veronica was seated.

She was in her element. Here was an
opportunity to charm, to dazzle, to
surprise. This man was vulgar, rather mean,
and not over wise. No matter, he could
be made to admire her—and he should!

It was already evident that Sir Matthew
had not expected to find so elegant and
dignified a lady in the person who claimed
to be his cousin's widow. The history of
her relations with Sir John was known to
him, and the ideas conjured up by such a
history in the mind of a man like Matthew
Gale, were greatly at variance with
Veronica's manners and aspect.

"I am sorry that Sir John was not on
terms with his very few surviving
relatives," she said, with the least possible
touch of hauteur. "You see his path in life
had been very different from theirs."

"So much the better for them, if all tales
be true!" exclaimed Sir Matthew. He
had now screwed his handkerchief into a
rope, and was fettering his leg with it.

Veronica was not embarrassed by having
to meet his eyes, for he turned them
studiously away from her. Her cheek glowed
a little, but she answered quietly, "Family
differences are of all others the most