length of
her novel had been her first question. It must be in three volumes,
and each volume must have three hundred pages. But what fewest number
of words might be supposed sufficient to fill a page? The money
offered was too trifling to allow of very liberal measure on her part.
She had to live, and if possible to write another novel,--and, as she
hoped, upon better terms,--when this should be finished. Then what
should be the name of her novel; what the name of her hero; and above
all what the name of her heroine? It must be a love story of course;
but she thought that she would leave the complications of the plot to
come by chance,--and they did come. 'Don't let it end unhappily, Lady
Carbury,' Mr Loiter had said, 'because though people like it in a
play, they hate it in a book. And whatever you do, Lady Carbury, don't
be historical. Your historical novel, Lady Carbury, isn't worth a--'
Mr Loiter stopping himself suddenly, and remembering that he was
addressing himself to a lady, satisfied his energy at last by the use
of the word 'straw.' Lady Carbury had followed these instructions with
accuracy.

The name for the story had been the great thing. It did not occur to
the authoress that, as the plot was to be allowed to develop itself
and was, at this moment when she was perplexed as to the title,
altogether uncreated, she might as well wait to see what appellation
might best suit her work when its purpose should have declared itself.
A novel, she knew well, was most unlike a rose, which by any other
name will smell as sweet. 'The Faultless Father,' 'The Mysterious
Mother,' 'The Lame Lover,'--such names as that she was aware would be
useless now. 'Mary Jane Walker,' if she could be very simple, would
do, or 'Blanche De Veau,' if she were able to maintain throughout a
somewhat high-stilted style of feminine rapture. But as she considered
that she could best deal with rapid action and strange coincidences,
she thought that something more startling and descriptive would better
suit her purpose. After an hour's thought a name did occur to her, and
she wrote it down, and with considerable energy of purpose framed her
work in accordance with her chosen title, 'The Wheel of Fortune!' She
had no particular fortune in her mind when she chose it, and no
particular wheel;--but the very idea conveyed by the words gave her the
plot which she wanted. A young lady was blessed with great wealth, and
lost it all by an uncle, and g