ant retired for a moment
to an inner room, while the tailor girded up his loins and prepared
himself for battle.

"Mr. Thwaite," said the Serjeant, as he re-entered the room, "you
probably know that I have been counsel for Lady Lovel and her
daughter in the late trial." Daniel assented by a nod of his head.
"My connection with the Countess would naturally have been then
closed. We have gained our cause, and there would be an end of it.
But as things have turned out it has been otherwise. Lady Anna Lovel
has been staying with Mrs. Bluestone."

"In Bedford Square?"

"Yes, at my house."

"I did not know. The Countess told me she was not in Keppel Street,
but refused to inform me where she was staying. I should not have
interfered with her ladyship's plans, had she been less secret with
me."

"Surely it was unnecessary that she should tell you."

"Quite unnecessary;--but hardly unnatural after all that has
occurred. As the Countess is with you only a friend of late date, you
are probably unaware of the former friendship which existed between
us. There was a time in which I certainly did not think that Lady
Lovel would ever decline to speak to me about her daughter. But all
this is nothing to you, Serjeant Bluestone."

"It is something to me, Mr. Thwaite, as her friend. Is there no
reason why she should have treated you thus? Ask your own
conscience."

"My conscience is clear in the matter."

"I have sent for you here, Mr. Thwaite, to ask you whether you cannot
yourself understand that this which you have proposed to do must
make you an enemy to the Countess, and annul and set aside all that
kindness which you have shown her? I put it to your own reason. Do
you think it possible that the Countess should be otherwise than
outraged at the proposition you have made to her?"

"I have made no proposition to her ladyship."

"Have you made none to her daughter?"

"Certainly I have. I have asked her to be my wife."

"Come, Mr. Thwaite, do not palter with me."

"Palter with you! Who dares to say that I palter? I have never
paltered. Paltering is--lying, as I take it. Let the Countess be my
enemy. I have not said that she should not be so. She might have
answered my letter, I think, when the old man died. In our rank of
life we should have done so. It may be different with lords and
titled ladies. Let it pass, however. I did not mean to make any
complaint. I came here because you sent for me."

"Yes;--I did send