sary to let
you know the reasons which induced me to keep my marriage private
awhile. You rush at conclusions very fast in thinking that because
a marriage is private, therefore it is illegal. I am glad that you
have no suspicions of your own, and beg to assure you I don't care
whether you have or not. Whenever you or anybody else may want to
try the case, you or he or they will find that I have taken care
that there is plenty of evidence. I didn't know that you had a
lawyer. I only hope he won't run you into much expense in finding
a mare's nest.

"Yours truly,

"B."

This was not in itself satisfactory; but such as it was, it did for a
time make Lord George believe that Popenjoy was Popenjoy. It was
certainly true of him that he wished Popenjoy to be Popenjoy. No
personal longing for the title or property made him in his heart
disloyal to his brother or his family. And then the trouble and expense
and anxieties of such a contest were so terrible to his imagination,
that he rejoiced when he thought that they might be avoided. But there
was the Dean. The Dean must be satisfied as well as he, and he felt
that the Dean would not be satisfied. According to agreement he sent a
copy of his brother's letter down to the Dean, and added the assurance
of his own belief that the marriage had been a marriage, that the heir
was an heir, and that further steps would be useless. It need hardly be
said that the Dean was not satisfied. Before dinner on the following
day the Dean was in Minister Court. "Oh, papa," exclaimed Mary, "I am
so glad to see you." Could it be anything about Captain De Baron that
had brought him up? If so, of course she would tell him everything.
"What brought you up so suddenly? Why didn't you write? George is at
the club, I suppose." George was really in Berkeley Square at that
moment. "Oh, yes; he will be home to dinner. Is there anything wrong at
Manor Cross, papa?" Her father was so pleasant in his manner to her,
that she perceived at once that he had not come up in reference to
Captain De Baron. No complaint of her behaviour on that score had as
yet reached him. "Where's your portmanteau, papa?"

"I've got a bed at the hotel in Suffolk Street. I shall only be here
one night, or at the most two; and as I had to come suddenly I wouldn't
trouble you."

"Oh, papa, that's very bad of you."

This she said with that genuine tone which begets confidenc