I ought to have
introduced myself earlier. I am Lord Maythorne; you will have heard of
me?"

"Yes," Joyce said, calmly; "yes, I have heard of you."

"No good report, I will venture to affirm, guessing, as I do with some
certainty, from whom the report came. If you tell that little boy--lame,
I see, poor fellow!--to leave us, I will briefly relate the
circumstances of my friendship with your brother. Come, Miss Falconer,
do not be unjust to me, but hear what I have to say. I prefer that our
conversation should be private; it is of great importance that you
should hear what I have to say, _alone_."

Joyce hesitated; that instinctive dread of men who are neither
honourable nor good, which all pure-minded maidens feel, made Joyce
shrink back from the very touch of Lord Maythorne's hand, as he tried to
take hers, with a gesture of profound reverence and raise it to his
lips.

"I little thought," he murmured, "that I should find in Melville's
sister any one so charming, and I confess that I am _bouleverse_ at
once. Nay, do not look so sternly at me."

"I do not know what right you have, my lord, to come here to alarm and
annoy me. If the matter you have to tell me is important about
Melville, I would refer you to my brother Ralph, and Mr. Paget, who is
my dear father's executor."

Piers, who had been watching the whole scene, now came hastily forward.

"Ralph has gone into the Wells market, and Joyce has no one at home but
me to take care of her. She does not wish you to stay, and you ought to
see that, and go away."

"You had better try the effect of one of your crutches on me, my boy! I
am not going away, at present."

Piers reddened, and was beginning an angry rejoinder, when Joyce said,
in a low tone:

"Go and stand at the further end of the hall, Piers, and I will go into
the porch. If I want you I will call, but do not let mother know anyone
is here. Now," she said, turning to Lord Maythorne, "we will go into the
porch, if you please, and you can tell me about Melville."

"Well," Lord Maythorne said. "I had an interest in your brother, and I
should have pulled him through his troubles, if it had not been for the
meddling interference of a kinsman of mine, a young fellow--great in his
own eyes--who cants like any old woman, and can turn up the whites of
his eyes with any Methodist in the land. He made a nice mess of it for
your brother owes me the money, and if he had left us alone we should
have arranged