more--received by the lawyers this time. My unknown correspondent
has written to them to withdraw his proposal, and to announce that
he has left Perth. The lawyers recommended me to stop my uncle from
spending money uselessly in employing the London police. I have
forwarded their letter to the captain; and he will probably be in town
to see his solicitors as soon as I get there with you. So much for
what _I_ have done in this matter. Dear Lady Lundie--when we are at our
journey's end, what do _you_ mean to do?"

"My course is plain," answered her ladyship, calmly. "Sir Patrick will
hear from me, on Sunday morning next, at Ham Farm."

"Telling him what you have found out?"

"Certainly not! Telling him that I find myself called to London by
business, and that I propose paying him a short visit on Monday next."

"Of course, he must receive you?"

"I think there is no doubt of that. Even _his_ hatred of his
brother's widow can hardly go to the length--after leaving my letter
unanswered--of closing his doors against me next."

"How will you manage it when you get there?"

"When I get there, my dear, I shall be breathing an atmosphere of
treachery and deceit; and, for my poor child's sake (abhorrent as all
dissimulation is to me), I must be careful what I do. Not a word will
escape my lips until I have first seen Blanche in private. However
painful it may be, I shall not shrink from my duty, if my duty compels
me to open her eyes to the truth. Sir Patrick and Mr. Brinkworth will
have somebody else besides an inexperienced young creature to deal with
on Monday next. I shall be there."

With that formidable announcement, Lady Lundie closed the conversation;
and Mrs. Glenarm rose to take her leave.

"We meet at the Junction, dear Lady Lundie?"

"At the Junction, on Saturday."

ELEVENTH SCENE.--SIR PATRICK'S HOUSE.

CHAPTER THE FORTY-SECOND.

THE SMOKING-ROOM WINDOW.

"I CAN'T believe it! I won't believe it! You're trying to part me from
my husband--you're trying to set me against my dearest friend. It's
infamous. It's horrible. What have I done to you? Oh, my head! my head!
Are you trying to drive me mad?"

Pale and wild; her hands twisted in her hair; her feet hurrying her
aimlessly to and fro in the room--so Blanche answered her step-mother,
when the object of Lady Lundie's pilgrimage had been accomplished, and
the cruel truth had been plainly told.

Her ladyship sat, superbly composed, looking o