"It does. And yet, lawyers like Hodgson & Fair are not likely to be led into a cul-de-sac. If----" he pauses, and looks earnestly at his wife. "If it does prove true, Barbara, you will be a very rich woman." "And you will be rich with me," she says, quickly, in an agitated tone. "But, but----" "Yes; it does seem difficult to believe," interrupts he, slowly. "What a letter!" His eyes fall on it again, and she, drawing close to him, reads it once more, carefully. "I think there is truth in it," says she, at last. "It sounds more like being all right, more reasonable, when read a second time. Freddy----" She steps a little bit away from him, and rests her beautiful eyes full on his. "Have you thought," says she, slowly, "that if there is truth in this story, how much we shall be able to do for your father and mother!" Monkton starts as if stung. For them. To do anything for them. For the two who had so wantonly offended and insulted her during all her married life: Is her first thought to be for them? "Yes, yes," says she, eagerly. "We shall be able to help them out of all their difficulties. Oh! I didn't say much to you, but in their grief, their troubles have gone to my very heart. I couldn't bear to think of their being obliged to give up their houses, their comforts, and in their old age, too! Now we shall be able to smooth matters for them!" CHAPTER XLII. "It's we two, it's we two, it's we two for aye, All the world and we two, and Heaven be our stay, Like a laverock in the lift, sing, O bonny bride! All the world was Adam once, with Eve by his side." The light in her eyes is angelic. She has laid her hands upon both her husband's arms, as if expecting him to take her into them, as he always does only too gladly on the smallest provocation. Just now, however, he fails her, for the moment only, however. "Barbara," says he, in a choked voice: he holds her from him, examining her face critically. His thoughts are painful, yet proud--proud beyond telling. His examination does not last long: there is nothing but good to be read in that fair, sweet, lovable face. He gathers her to him with a force that is almost hurtful. "Are you a woman at all, or just an angel?" says he, with a deep sigh. "What is it, Freddy?" "After all they have done to you. Their insults, coldness, abominable conduct, to think that your first thought should be for them. Why, look here, Barbara," vehemently, "they are not worthy that you should----" "Tut!" interrupts she, lightly, yet with a little sob in her throat. His praise is so sweet to her. "You overrate me. Is it for them I would do it or for you? There, take all the thought for yourself. And, besides, are not you and I one, and shall not your people be my people? Come, if you think of it, there is no such great merit after all." "You forget----"