oked thoughtfully and proceeded. "It does seem a chance, and I'm
awfully grateful to you and all that for providing it. But supposing the
widow is not to be caught, and who's to tell? She knows her own value,
you bet--I should be up a tree if I had had a row with the Koellners. I
don't want to fall between two stools, you know."

It ended in this, that he was to present himself at Boldero Abbey on the
following day, armed with an excuse; and that, as things developed,
further counsel as to further progression should be taken.

It was left to Sir Thomas to cast a damper over their hopes. He was not
told about them, but he would have been a simpleton indeed if he had not
seen for himself--neither his wife nor nephew being wary
conspirators,--and directly he was alone with the former, he spoke out
with conjugal frankness.

"You think yourself mighty clever? Look out. You have old Boldero to
deal with."

"But, my dear, Leonore is quite independent of her father."

"A child like that is never independent. The more money she has, the
sharper he will look after it."

"If she chooses to marry again----"

"Now look here, Laura, if Godfrey Stubbs' widow chooses to marry again,
she may marry anybody. _Anybody_, d'ye take me? Is it likely she'd take
George? Who's George? What's George? An eighth son, and nothing at that.
Not even clever or good-looking."

"Oh, he _is_ good-looking."

"Hanged if he is. Anyhow he's not a half nor a quarter as good-looking
as Valentine Purcell. And what's more, though he is my nephew, he is
not so much of a gentleman as poor Val is."

Lady Butts, however, stood to her guns.

"What girl in her senses would marry that creature?"

"Creature? Humph! Val isn't over sensible, and he has no backing,--but
in his own way he's quite a nice fellow, and has a wonderful appearance
when he's dressed. I don't want to see any one look better than Val
Purcell turned out for a meet."

"He's just a big boy, and no one thinks of him as anything else."

"One person does--or at any rate, pretends she does. You may take your
oath old granny yonder has an eye on your pretty widow; and the Purcells
are too close to the Bolderos not to have a dozen opportunities of
meeting, for one that you and your precious George have. I wouldn't mind
laying odds upon the rival candidate."

Of this conversation we may be sure no echo ever reached other ears, and
indeed Lady Butts soon forgot its tenor herself, in her exuber