, her failure was piteous. It merely amounted to a
gentle rebuke to him for going to the Paragon instead of coming to
Montpellier Terrace. Adela saw it all, and saw also that Sir Lionel
was in no way sincere. But what could she do, or what could she say?

"I hope Miss Todd was quite well yesterday, Sir Lionel?" Miss Baker
would say.

"I don't think there was much the matter with her," Sir Lionel would
answer. "She was talking a great deal about you while I was with
her."

"About me; he! he! he! I'm sure you had something better than me to
talk of."

"There could be nothing better," the gallant colonel would say.

"Oh, couldn't there? and when is it to be? Adela here is most anxious
to know."

"How can you say so, Miss Baker? You know I am not anxious at all."

"Well, if you're not, I am. I hope we shall be asked--ha! ha! ha!"

And why did not Sir Lionel make up his mind and put an end, in one
way or the other, to the torment of this poor lady? Many reasons
guided him in his high policy. In the first place, he could not make
himself certain whether Miss Todd would accept him or refuse him.
Her money was by far the safer; her fortune was assured; what she
possessed, Sir Lionel already knew to a fraction.

But Miss Baker, he was sure, would accept him; and having accepted
him, would be amenable to all his little reasons in life, obedient,
conformable, and, in money matters, manageable. Miss Todd, on the
other hand, might, nay, certainly would have a will of her own. He
would sooner have taken Miss Baker with half the money.

But then would Miss Baker have half the money? If that stupid old
man at Hadley would only go, and tell the only tale with which it
was now possible that he should interest the world, then Sir Lionel
would know how to act. At any rate, he would wait till after the
solicitor-general's marriage. It might appear on that occasion
whether or no Sir Henry was to be regarded as the old man's heir
in all things. If so, Sir Lionel would be prepared to run all
matrimonial risks, and present Miss Todd to the world as Lady
Bertram.

CHAPTER XV.

MARRIAGE-BELLS.

And now came the day of execution. "A long day, my lord, a long day,"
screams the unfortunate culprit from the dock when about to undergo
the heaviest sentence of the law. But the convicted wretch is a
coward by his profession. Caroline Waddington was no coward. Having
made up her mind to a long martyrdom, she would not condescend