id not make her
appearance in that neighbourhood," was Arthur's answer. The reader knows
more of her movements than any of her acquaintances at Vellenaux or
London.

"And we shall have dear old Vellenaux to live in. Oh! Arthur dear, I am
so happy, with all the friends I hold most dear on earth residing around
us. You will of course leave the service now? How kind of my poor, dear
uncle to think of us both in his will. But Mrs. Barton may notice my
absence, and become uneasy, so let us return;" and in another moment or
two, leaning on the arm of her handsome affianced husband, Edith
re-entered the ball room, much to the relief and surprise of Pauline
Barton. Arthur Carlton took an opportunity during the evening of
relating to Mr. Barton the change that had taken place in Edith's
circumstances by the death of, and disclosures made by, the late
Baronet.

"Meet me at breakfast in the morning, and we will consult as to what
immediate steps should be taken on this extraordinary occasion; but of
course you will sleep here," said Horace. Arthur assented, and was soon
again at Edith's side, who had told confidentially to Mrs. Barton all
that he had told her: and that little lady could not restrain her
delight, and before eleven o'clock that evening, every one in the room
became aware that the beautiful Miss Effingham was worth twenty thousand
pounds a year as heiress of Vellenaux.

Mr. and Mrs. Denham, previous to the ball, took their departure for
Devonshire, and were comfortably settled in the Rectory before Horace
returned to the Willows. He had postponed their journey in order that
Arthur and Edith might have the benefit of his advice and assistance in
such matters as might arise during the establishment of their claims,
set forth in the will of the late Sir Jasper, now produced.

Mr. Septimus Jones was a lawyer of good repute, carrying on his practice
now, and had been doing so for upwards of fifteen years in the main
street of Hammersmith leading to the Suspension Bridge.

"Nicholas," said that gentleman one morning, as he laid on his desk a
copy of the _Times_ newspaper, which he had been carefully perusing for
upwards of an hour, "Nicholas, do you remember a youth named Edward
Crowquill, that I had in my office some ten years since?"

The old and confidential clerk ceased writing, and thrusting his pen
behind his ear, rubbed his hands softly together, and said, "Most
certainly I do. He was not fit for the business