be quite accurate in
an affair of so much importance. She is a lucky young lady. A great many
would like to learn the secret of pleasing you to this extent."

Lucy looked at him with a gasp. She did not understand the rest of his
speech or care to hear it. Her name? What was her name? If she had not
known it before, still less did she know it now.

"Oh," she cried, "what does it matter about a name? People, girls,
change their names. She is Beatrice. You might leave a blank and it
could be filled up after. She is going to--marry. She is--must
everything be delayed for that?--and yet it is of no importance--no
importance that I can see," Lucy said, wringing her hands.

"My dear Lady Randolph! Let me say that to give a very large sum of
money to a person with whose very name you are unacquainted--forgive me,
but in your own interests I must speak. Let me consult with Sir
Thomas."

"I do not wish my husband to be consulted. He has promised me not to
interfere, and it is my business, not his," Lucy said, with a flush of
excitement. And though there was much further conversation, and the
lawyer did all he could to move her, it need not be said that Lucy was
immovable. He went down to the door with her to put her into her
carriage, as he supposed, not unwilling even in that centre of practical
life to have the surrounding population see on what confidential terms
he was with this fine young lady. But when he perceived that no carriage
was there, and Lucy, not without a tremor, as of a very strange request,
and one which might shock the nerves of her companion, asked him to get
a cab for her, Mr. Chervil's astonishment knew no bounds.

"I never thought how far it was," Lucy said, faltering and apologetic.
"I thought I might perhaps have been able to walk."

"Walk!" he cried, "from Park Lane?" with consternation. He stood looking
after her as she drove away, saying to himself that the old man had
undoubtedly been mad, and that this poor young thing was evidently
cracked too. He thought it would be best to write to Sir Thomas, who was
not Sir Tom to Mr. Chervil; but if it was going to happen that the poor
young lady should show what he had no doubt was the hereditary weakness,
Mr. Chervil could not restrain a devout wish that it might show itself
decisively before half her fortune was alienated. No Sir Thomas in
existence would carry out a father-in-law's will of such an insane
character as that.

In the meanwhile Lucy j