thbed.

An exceeding unwillingness to contemplate death, had prevented Mr.
Ponsonby from making a new will. By one made many years back, he had
left the whole of his property, without exception, to his daughter, his
first wife having been provided for by her marriage settlements, and
now, with characteristic indolence and selfishness, he had deferred
till too late the securing any provision for his Limenian wife; and
only when he found himself dying, had he said to Mary, 'You will take
care to provide for poor Rosita!'

So Mary had found herself heiress to a share in the miserably-involved
affairs of Dynevor and Ponsonby; and as soon as she could think of the
future at all, had formed the design of settling Rosita in a convent
with a pension, and going herself to England.

But Rosita was not easily to be induced to give up her gaieties for a
convent life; and, moreover, there was absolutely such a want of ready
money, that Mary did not see how to get home, though Robson assured her
there was quite enough to live upon as they were at present. Nor was
it possible to dispose of the mines and other property without Mr.
Dynevor's consent, and he might not be in a state to give it.

The next stroke was young Madison's sudden disappearance, and the
declaration by Robson that he had carried off a great deal of
property--a disappointment to her even greater than the loss. Robson
was profuse in compliments and attentions, but continually deferred the
statement of affairs that he had promised; and Mary could not bear to
accept the help of Mr. Ward, the only person at hand able and willing
to assist her. She had at last grown desperate, and, resolved to have
something positive to write to Mr. Dynevor, as well as not to go on
living without knowing her means, she had insisted on Robson bringing
his accounts. She knew just enough to be dissatisfied with his vague
statements; and the more he praised her sagacity, the more she saw that
he was taking advantage of her ignorance, which he presumed to be far
greater than it really was. At the very moment when she was most
persuaded of his treachery, and felt the most lonely and desolate--when
he was talking fluently, and she was seeking to rally her spirits, and
discover the path of right judgment, where the welfare of so many was
concerned--it was then that Fitzjocelyn's voice was in her ear.

She had scarcely explained to Louis why his coming was, if possible,
doubly and trebly