more than two years
ago. The thought that he should have, without influence or position,
surmounted so many difficulties, and become the hero of the hour, was
wonderful beyond words. More than once I caught Lord Carbis scanning
the newspapers which contained references to him, his eyes lit up with
pride.

In spite of all this, however, I foresaw difficulties, saw, too, that
if Edgecumbe had not become radically changed, he would be a great
disappointment to his father. Would he, I wondered, stand by the words
he had uttered at the great public meeting? Would he refuse to
participate in the wealth which his father had amassed through his
connection with the trade which he believed was one of the great curses
of humanity? For it was evident that Lord Carbis was a man of strong
opinions. He had built up a great and prosperous business by
enterprise, foresight and determination. To him that business was
doubtless honourable. Through the wealth he had amassed by it, he had
become a peer of the realm. What would he say and do if his son took
the stand which, in spite of everything, I imagined he would?

Other things troubled me, too. Springfield, who was staying with St.
Mabyn, motored over early, and immediately sought Lorna Bolivick's
society. Of course Edgecumbe saw this, and I wondered how it would
affect him. I wondered, too, how Sir Thomas would regard Springfield's
suit, now that the future of his life was so materially altered. I
tried, by a study of Lorna Bolivick's face, to understand the condition
of her heart. I wondered whether she really cared for the tall,
sinister-looking man who, I judged, had evidently fascinated her.

It was not until after tea that I was able to get a few minutes' chat
with her alone. Indeed, I had a suspicion that she rather avoided me.
But seeing Springfield and St. Mabyn evidently in earnest conversation
together, I made my way to her, and asked her to come with me for a
stroll through the woods.

'Real life makes fiction tame and commonplace,' I said, as I nodded
toward Lady Carbis and Edgecumbe, who were walking arm in arm on the
lawn.

'Real life always does that,' was her reply; 'the so-called
impossibilities of melodrama are in reality the prosiest of realism.'

'I can't quite settle down to it yet,' I said. 'I can't think of
Edgecumbe as Lord Carbis's son, in spite of all we have seen. To begin
with, his name isn't Edgecumbe at all.'

'No,' she replied;