"So they will, rely on it; that's a matter of course." "I don't know how it is," continued Lady May, who was garrulous, "that murders interest people so much, who ought to be simply shocked at them." "We have a murder in our family, you know," said Richard Arden. "That was poor Henry Arden--I know," she answered, lowering her voice and dropping her eyes, with a side glance at Alice, for she did not know how she might like to hear it talked of. "Oh, that happened when Alice was only five months old, I think," said Richard; and slipping into the chair beside Lady May, he laid his hand upon hers with a smile, and whispered, leaning towards her-- "You are always so thoughtful; it is _so_ nice of you!" And this short speech ended, his eyes remained fixed for some seconds, with a glow of tender admiration, on those of fat Lady May, who simpered with effusion, and did not draw her hand away until she thought she saw Mr. Longcluse glance their way. It was quite true, all he said of Lady May. It would not be easy to find a simpler or more good-natured person. She was very rich also, and, it was said by people who love news and satire, had long been willing to share her gold and other chattels with handsome Richard Arden, who being but five-and-twenty, might very nearly have been her son. "I remember that horrible affair," said Mr. Longcluse, with a little shrug and a shake of his head. "Where was I then--Paris or Vienna? Paris it was. I recollect it all now, for my purse was stolen by the very man who made his escape--Mace was his name; he was a sort of low man on the turf, I believe. I was very young then--somewhere about seventeen, I think." "You can't have been more, of course," said good-natured Lady May. "I should like very much some time to hear all about it," continued Mr. Longcluse. "So you shall," said Richard, "whenever you like." "Every old family has a murder, and a ghost, and a beauty also, though she does not always live and breathe, except in the canvas of Lely, or Kneller, or Reynolds: and they, you know, had roses and lilies to give away at discretion, in their paint-boxes, and were courtiers," remarked Mr. Longcluse, "who dealt sometimes in the old-fashioned business of making compliments. _I_ say happy the man who lives in those summers when the loveliness of some beautiful family culminates, and who may, at ever such a distance, gaze and worship." This ugly man spoke in a low tone, and his voice was rather sweet. He looked as he spoke at Miss Arden, from whom, indeed, his eyes did not often wander. "Very prettily said!" applauded Lady May affably. "I forgot to ask you, Lady May," inquired Alice, cruelly, at this moment, "how the pretty little Italian greyhound is that was so ill--better, I hope." "Ever so much--quite well almost. I'd have taken him out for a drive to-day, poor dear little Pepsie! but that I thought the sun just a little overpowering. Didn't you?" "Perhaps a little."