way, " that would never do. Suppose we
fail altogether. No: when I am George
Haddan, of Haddan Lodge, then I will ask
you to be my wife, but never before. I
nave nothing to offer you till then."

"And then I won't have you," I said,
drawing his arm closer round me— "I
won't, indeed, George. I am just going to
take a solemn vow."

There is no need to say what we talked
of for the next hour, but when we were
through with that subject, which continued
to turn up again at all sorts of odd
moments, we turned back to our original
discussion.

Among my father's letters we had found
a very kind one from Mr. Newill, the
family lawyer, written privately to my
father about Mrs. Haddan and her children.
Though he did not in any way
acknowledge the marriage, he said, as George
Haddan's chief friend, he was deeply
interested in his children, and he urged my
father to accept some provision from him
for them. We determined to see this man,
acting with profound caution, and if we
found him to be anything like his letter, to
tell him our whole story unreservedly. We
took Mrs. Haddan with us, and obtained a
private interview with him. He was
particularly struck with George's likeness to
his father, and in five minutes Mrs. Haddan
was giving him a tearful account of
her runaway marriage with young Mr.
Haddan, and of her utter ignorance of the
place. I could see that Mr. Newill did not
place implicit reliance upon her statements.

"You are the niece of Mrs. Haddan's
maid, whose name was Becket?" he
observed.

"Yes, sir," she answered, sobbing.

"Then she must have left her service
before old Mrs. Haddan's death," he said.
"I saw the maid several times just then,
and her name was certainly not Becket."

"Aunt Becket wrote to me from Haddan
Lodge," she answered, "and the letter
came by the same mail as yours for Mr.
Prescott. It was such a dreadful letter
that I burnt it, for fear of anybody ever
seeing it."

"And you have no proofs?" he said.

"Nothing except my ring," she replied,
pulling off her glove, and showing him a
very thin, worn circle of gold embedded in
her finger. George took her hand in his
and kissed it tenderly, and I felt the tears
come even into my eyes.

"Who would receive that packet for old
Mr. Haddan, and open it after his death?''
I asked, going direct to the point they all
seemed to avoid. Mr. Newill turned and
fixed a very sharp pair of eyes upon me.

"Either his wife or son," he answered,
shortly.

"His wife was only Mr. George's step-
mother," I said, "and her son was the
next heir."

Mr. Newill was silent a minute or two.

"If I could think what you are thinking,"
he said, "there would be no mystery
about it, though it would be no easier to
prove that than the other. But I don't
think it. Mr. James was an honourable
man, and his mother a thorough lady."

"But there were twelve thousand pounds
a year to lose," I observed.

Mr. Newill looked at me a second time
sharply, and I returned his gaze steadily.
Why should any man daunt me?

"Let us hear your opinion, young lady,"
he said.

"I am Fortune Prescott," I answered,
stung a little by his manner, "and my
opinion is this. The packet reached Haddan
Lodge safely. It fell, of course, into the
hands of Mr. James, or old Mrs. Haddan.
In either case the temptation would be the
same. Mr. George Haddan's marriage had
been so well kept a secret, that nobody had
suspected it. He had married a very
young girl—  a dependant of the house—
with no friends to look after her. Here
was the certificate of the marriage; and,
at any rate, it would be quite safe to wait
and see what other proofs could be
produced. Whoever had the packet waited,
and in time my father's letter followed it.
You saw that letter?"

"Yes," said Mr. Newill; "it was
addressed to Mr. James, and he brought it at
once to me."

"You considered it, of course, an
unfounded claim," I went on, "and you wrote
back, demanding proofs. My father told you
what Mr. George Haddan had done, and
that no other proofs were in existence on
the other side of the Atlantic. You offered
a provision for Mr. George Haddan's
children, which my father and their mother
refused. Then fifteen years passed on, and
everybody believed the matter done with."

"We did. I had forgotten it almost,"
said Mr. Newill.

"But it is not done with," I continued; "I
am a rich woman, and if George gives it
up, I never will while there is a chance.
The only question in my mind is whether
the documents were destroyed. The safest
way would be to destroy them at once; and