"Well," said Max, sinking back into his old way, "I've got a plan for that too--one that will give but little trouble, and so I don't mind telling you." "Well--quick, tell me!" cried Laura. "Bai Jove! how excited you are!" said Max, laughing insolently, and taking evident delight in probing his sister's wounds. "Charley is hard at work trying to find out her address." "Yes, yes!" cried Laura, pressing her hand to her side. "And he'll be sure to find it sooner or later." "Yes, yes!" cried Laura pitifully, her eyes flashing with jealous hate the while she stood before her brother, the style of woman who, had she lived at an earlier period, would have gladly taken a leaf from the book of Lucrezia Borgia, and ridded herself of her rival. "Well," said Max coolly, "I said he'd be sure to find it out, didn't I?" "Max--Max! why do you torture me?" cried Laura. "Tell me how you will manage, when you say that you will leave him to find out what should be yours to do, if there is to be any faith in your promise!" "Faith!--yes, bai Jove, you may have faith in me! And there, I won't hurt your feelings any more. Charley will find out the address, and so shall I." "But how?" cried Laura passionately, stamping her foot. "How? Why, bai Jove, _I shall watch him_!" Volume 2, Chapter VI. THE NEW HOME. John Dudgeon was right. Ella Bedford's luggage was directed to Mrs Brandon's, Copse Hall, Laneton, to reach which, unless a fly had been engaged to convey her across country, Ella had to go up to town by one line, and then take her ticket by another. This she did, and reached Copse Hall, a gloomy-looking dwelling, late one evening, her heart sinking as the station fly conveyed her down a muddy lane, on the Croppley Magna road. The hedges were heavy, and the trees seemed all weeping--drip, drip, drip--while an occasional gust of wind drove the rain against the fly window. Cold, sombre-looking, and bare was the house; and feeling that the refuge she had sought by means of advertising would be to her as a prison, Ella descended from the fly. A tall hard-looking footman opened the door, and kept her standing on the mat of a great bare hall, whose floor was polished oak, and whose ornaments were a set of harsh stiff-backed chairs, that looked as if they had been made out of old coffin boards, while the cold wind rushed through and shut a door somewhere in the back regions with an echoing bang. "There'll be a row about that," said the hard-faced footman, as he set down the second trunk and closed the door, and the flyman drove off. "Missus hates the doors to bang, and they will do it when the wind's in the south. You're to come in here, please, Miss--Bedford, isn't it?"