“I quite agree with all you say; indeed, nothing could be better under existing circumstances,” the viscount said. “I will order the carriage to be ready in an hour. The luggage had better precede us to the railway station, if it is ready. Allow me to tighten the straps.” He busied himself for some minutes, then asked if lunch should be sent upstairs. “No, thank you,” Lady Elaine said. “I shall not breathe freely until I am out of this house forever. I shall never forget your kindness, viscount.” There were tears in her eyes and in her voice, and Rivington felt that his cause was half won. “I will accompany you to London,” he said. “A man is useful in looking after things, and I may be able to assist you in the choice of a house. I know every inch of the suburbs. I would suggest a pretty villa in the vicinity of Hyde Park--a sort of combination of country and town, where people mind their own business. The ordinary country village is a perfect hotbed of malicious gossip.” “I am sure that I shall be content to leave the selection in your hands,” Lady Elaine replied, thoughtfully. “And it will, perhaps, be wise to be within easy reach of Mr. Worboys.” “The late family lawyer!” the viscount exclaimed, incautiously, but added quickly, “yes, and you may have need of his services soon. Lady Elaine, at present I stand between you and a vast fortune. You know what my hopes have been and ever will be, but I want you to acquit me of having any hand in that infamous will! It is impossible to alter it, but I am not so mean a cur that I will permit you to lose one shilling because I suffer the keenest disappointment that it is possible for man to endure and live!” She looked at him gratefully, and he pressed her hand in silence. “There,” he concluded, “I will send the cart to the door for your luggage, and find that prying footman something to do. You have selected your train, I presume?” “Two-thirty from Ashbourne,” Elaine said. “Very well,” he went on, consulting his watch, “the carriage shall be waiting at two.” He bowed gracefully, and left the room with the feelings of a victor. “I shall win her,” he thought. “Aye, in a canter, I verily believe. Sympathy and kindness appeal to her haughty soul.” At two o’clock Lady Elaine, Viscount Rivington and Nina, the maid, left the Lodge in Lady Gaynor’s rickety brougham, and were driven to Ashbourne station. “It happears to me,” remarked the butler to the footman, “that there’s a good chance of our getting the back wages, but hang me if I can see the drift of the little game.” CHAPTER XVII. THERESA’S LOVE. Never until Sir Harold Annesley came into her life had Theresa Hamilton understood the ecstatic joy of living. The songs of the birds were tuned afresh, the flowers took on a newer bloom, and the bees that buzzed in the blossoming garden told but one story, and its name was Love--beautiful Love!