w was she to increase it? The reversion of the great Wilders
estates still eluded her grasp; they might never come her way,
whatever lengths she might go to secure them.

"Lord Essendine ought to do something for me," she told herself, as
soon as she was settled in town. "It was not fair to keep the
existence of this hateful young man secret; my boy suffers by it, poor
little orphan! Surely I can make a good case of this to his lordship;
and, after all, the child comes next."

She wrote accordingly to the family lawyers, Messrs. Burt and Benham,
asking for an interview, and within a day or two saw the senior
partner, Mr. Burt.

He was blandly sympathetic, but distant.

"Allow me to offer my deep condolence, madam; but as this is, I
presume, a business visit, may I ask--"

"I am left in great distress. I wish to appeal to Lord Essendine."

"On what grounds?"

"My infant son is the next heir."

"Nay; surely you know--there is another before him?"

"Before my boy! Who? What can you mean? Impossible! I have never heard
a syllable of this. I shall contest it."

It suited her to deny all knowledge, thinking it strengthened her
position.

"That would be quite useless. The claims of the next heir are
perfectly sound."

"It is sheer robbery! It is scandalous, outrageous! I will go and see
Lord Essendine myself."

"Pardon me, madam; I fear that is out of the question. He is in
Scotland, living in retirement. Lady Essendine's health has failed
greatly under recent afflictions."

"He must and shall know how I am situated."

"You may trust me to tell him, madam, at once; and, although I have no
right to pledge his lordship, I think I can safely say that he will
meet you in a liberal spirit."

So it proved. Lord Essendine, after a short interval, wrote himself to
Mrs. Wilders a civil, courtly letter, in which he promised her a
handsome allowance, with a substantial sum in cash down to furnish a
house and make herself a home.

Although still bitterly dissatisfied with her lot, she was now not
only fortified against indigence, but could count on a life of comfort
and ease. She established herself in a snug villa down Brompton way--a
small house with a pretty garden, of the kind now fast disappearing
from what was then a near suburb of the town. It was well mounted; she
kept several servants, a neat brougham, and an excellent cook.

There she prepared to wait events, trusting that Russian bullet or
Benito's Span