If those who do not believe in the nobility of
soul that makes man, only "a little lower
than the angels" could have seen the earnestness
with which Ronald Chester entered into
Cecil's views and seconded her endeavours to
trace the unfortunate woman who, either with
or without cause, had been abandoned by the
man who had sworn to protect her—they might
have been cured of an infidelity which is alike
an insult to the created and the creator.

Mr. Cathcart confessed that, insane as
they both were, their insanity had done him
good.

"My belief, sir, is," he said, when talking
the case over with a professional friend (for it
had "oozed out" and become matter of interest,
either as something to praise or blame, but at all
events, something to wonder at and talk about),
"my belief, sir, is that Miss Middleton will
have as much happiness in what she considers
'rendering justice' as she would have had in
taking possession of Middleton Lea. Now,
suppose this child is discovered—which I
devoutly hope it never will be—with a dancing
or a singing woman for its mother—that
exquisite, delicate creature, and that high-hearted
man, will set off to the New World, calling
themselves (and at their age too, for the lady
is past thirty) rich in each other's love. Yes,
and believing it, too; believing it, sir!

"Miss Middleton, sir, is the victim of the
wildest dream of justice, that ever disturbed a
woman's brain! All I entreated of her, was, to
wait until the wife made a claim. It is not one
woman in ten, who understands reason; but
what makes the matter more aggravating, is,
Miss Middleton does—on every subject but this.
I am very glad that such justice is not
contagious, for if it was," concluded Mr. Cathcart,
taking off his spectacles, and speaking in a
confidential low tone to his friend, "as
Ronald had the truthful impudence to tell me,
there would be an end to law. However, sir,
for all that (this is strictly between you and
me), it does one good to see that noble
woman's disinterestedness, and know that it
is real, and true. It is more refreshing than
a cruise to Norway in the long vacation!
Selfishness, sir, is the curse of this age of
electro-plate and stucco, and yet here, sir, are
a full grown man and woman, who have no idea
of the sensation!"

Certainly Mr. Cathcart had never so
unwillingly placed himself in communication with the
police as he presently proceeded to do. Cecil,
not satisfied with what she believed would
be the coldness of his instructions, saw the
detective officer who was to be employed in
this delicate investigation, and quickened his
perceptions with the hope of a handsome reward
if he succeeded. Of course she was beset with
friends and advisers, who held with Mr. Cathcart,
that it would have been wiser to have
taken possession, and waited. It was astonishing
how all degrees of "friendliness" encircled
the heiress and her betrothed—every suggestion
being "for her good." She listened "with
the calm and gentle courtesy inseparable from
her nature, but remained firm and faithful to
what she considered justice.

                        CHAPTER VII.

HOURS and days passed anxiously and heavily,
bringing hardly any information from the detective
officer who accompanied the lawyer's clerk
in the search which Cecil had so promptly
determined upon. One week they were in
Scotland; next week, they were drifting from one
to another of the Channel Islands, after what
seemed to all but Cecil a forlorn hope. Yet
the fact of the marriage, and the fact that a
child was born, seemed established—to the
great disgust of Mr. Cathcart. A clue gathered
up in Guernsey sent the two men to Baden-Baden,
whence a strange wild story was
transmitted to their employers. This story was to
the effect that, at what they called "a grand
hotel," Major Middleton's last visit was
perfectly remembered. He was accompanied by a
delicate blue-eyed blonde, as tiny and fantastic
as a fairy, and who sang like an angel; but who,
one night after a concert, disappeared with a
Russian tenor, who married her next morning.
This did not disconcert the major in the
least; during the whole of the following day he
was the gayest of the gay at all the places

           Where men do congregate,

and patronised the Russian tenor's next concert
in a very liberal manner. He had created too
marked a reputation for eccentricity during
former seasons, to admit of the possibility of a
mistake as to his identity.

The beautiful blonde (thus the story ran on)
had made a confidante of the lady who sat at
"the Receipt of custom" at the hotel, and had
assured her that, even if he had been a free
man, nothing would have induced her to marry
"cette sauvage magnifique, Major Middleton."
She had made that little excursion with
him from sheer pity. " Madame Middleton,"
whom she described as being fierce as
"Vesuvius," "dark as night," and in bad health,
had altogether made life so triste for the poor
major, that in pity she gave him a little variety,
but to marry him!—it would have been too
absurd—" he had not a note in his voice!" Of
course inquiry was made if this person had
stated where "Madame Middleton" was?
Somewhere in Scotland, the signora had said.
The officer had been there; had traced the
bride and bridegroom to Oban and into the
wilds of Arasaig, where the latter had
established renown as a fisherman and cragsman,
daring and doing what the Highlanders could
not achieve. Cecil's cheek paled, and her tears
fell at the record of her brother's vices; but her
eyes brightened when she found his feats of
courage and strength unforgotten.

The lady's beauty was also well remembered,
and even in those early days of wedlock, the
mistress of the hotel at Oban had observed, that
"they were not that loving together as might
have been expected, seeing they were just wed.
The lady, 'a foreigner, poor body.' cried a deal,