from genius. He believed in himself, however,
and his wife believed in him; and for years he
struggled on, painting ambitious pictures that
never sold, and earning a scanty subsistence by
copying the Raffaelles he so dearly loved. At
last, however, the bitter truth forced itself upon
him, and he knew that he had deceived himself
with hopes destined never to be realised. But
the discovery came too late. Long years of
unrequited effort had impaired his health and
bowed his spirit within him, and he had no spark
left of that high courage which would once have
armed him against all "the slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune." He did not long survive
the wreck of his ambition. He died in Florence,
literally of a broken heart, some fifteen years
after his romantic marriage with Elizabeth
Holme-Pierrepoint, leaving her and one
surviving child wholly unprovided for.

Such were the destinies of these half-sisters,
and such the family history of which William
Trefalden gave Saxon a meagre outline, after
his consultation with Abel Keckwitch.

CHAPTER XLVIII.

WHAT THEY SAID AT THE CLUB.

"AND now, Saxon," said Mr. Trefalden, "I
can tell you nothing beyond the fact that Edgar
Rivière died in Florence some three or four
years since; but I think we need have no difficulty
in guessing the parentage and history of your
distressed damsel. I imagine that her mother
must have been left simply destitute; and in this
case, Lady Castletowers would, of course, do
something to keep her from starvation. I doubt,
however, that her charity went beyond that
point."

"But, good Heavens!" exclaimed Saxon, who
was now pacing up and down the room in a fever
of indignation, "this lady is her own sister,
cousin William! her own sister!"

"Her half-sister;  but even so, it is too bad."

"Too bad? Why, it's monstrous!  If I were
Castletowers . . . ."

"I do not suppose that Lord Castletowers
has ever heard of the existence of these people,"
interrupted the lawyer.

"Then he ought to hear of it!"

"Not from your lips, young man. You have
stumbled on a family secret, and, right or wrong,
you are bound in honour to respect it. If Lady
Castletowers keeps a skeleton in her private
closet, it is not your place to produce that
skeleton at the feast to which she invites you."

"I am afraid that's true," replied Saxon,
"but I wish I might tell Castletowers, all the
same."

"You must do nothing of the kind," said
Mr. Trefalden, emphatically. "It is in your
power to give great assistance to two
unfortunate ladies, and with that privilege be
content."

"I cannot be content to stand by and see
injustice done," exclaimed Saxon. "They have
been cruelly wronged."

"Even so, my dear fellow, you are not Don
Quixote."

The young man bit his lip.

"Don Quixote's name," said he, "is too often
taken in vain. Heaven forbid that we
nineteenth-century people should come to apply it
to the simple love of right! It seems to me
that the world over here thinks a vast deal more
of politeness than justice. It's not so in
Switzerland. And now, cousin William, how am I
to help them?"

"You must allow me time to consider,"
replied Mr. Trefalden. "It will require delicate
management."

"I know it will."

"But I can think the matter over, and write
to you about it to-morrow."

"The sooner the better," said Saxon.

"Of course—and with regard to money?"

"With regard to money, do the best you can
for them. I don't care how much it is."

"Suppose I were to draw upon you for a
hundred thousand pounds!" said the lawyer,
with a smile.

"I'm not afraid of that; but I do fear that
you may not use my purse freely enough."

"I will try, at all events," replied Mr. Trefalden;
whereupon Saxon thanked him cordially,
and put out his hand to say good-bye.

"You don't inquire how the company is going
on," said the lawyer, detaining him.

"I am afraid I had forgotten all about the
company," laughed Saxon. "But I suppose
it's all right."

"Yes, we are making way," replied his cousin.
"Capital pours in, and the shareholders have
every confidence in the direction. Our
surveyors are still going over the ground; and we
are this week despatching a man of business to
Sidon. Sidon, you may remember, will be our
great Mediterranean depôt; and we mean to
open offices, and establish an agent there, without
delay."

"Indeed!" said Saxon. "Is it still so great
a secret?"

"It is a greater secret than ever."

"Oh—good-bye."

"You are always in haste when business is
the topic," said Mr. Trefalden. "Where are
you going now?"

"To the club; and then back to
Castletowers."

"You are making a long stay. What about
the Colonnas?"

But Saxon was already half way down the
stairs, and seemed not to hear the question.

He then went direct to the Erectheum, where
he no sooner made his appearance than he
found himself a centre of attraction. The
younger men were eager for news of Italy,
and, knowing whence he came, overwhelmed
him with questions. What was Colonna doing?
Was he likely to go out to Garibaldi? What
were Garibaldi's intentions? Was Victor
Emmanuel favourable to the Sicilian cause? Would
the war be carried into Naples and Rome?
And, if so, did Colonna think that the Emperor
of the French would take arms for the Pope?
Was it true that Vaughan was about to join the