"She sha'n't be that, I'll take care," said the old man, locking down his desk again upon the letter. "It might possibly be as well, Sir, to prepare her a little at first. I may possibly be of some little use, and so may Lady May. I only mean that it might hardly be expedient to make it from the first a matter of authority, because she has romantic ideas, and she is spirited." "I'll sleep upon it. I sha'n't see her again till to-morrow evening. She does not care about anyone in particular, I suppose?" "Not that I know of," said Richard. "You'll find it will all be right--it _will_--all right. It _shall_ be right," said Sir Reginald. And then there was a silence. He was meditating the other business he had in hand, and again circuitously he proceeded. "What's going on at the opera? Who is your great danseuse at present?" inquired the baronet, with a glimmer of a leer. "I haven't seen a ballet for more than six years. And why? I needn't tell you. You know the miserable life I lead. Egad! there are fellows placed everywhere to watch me. There would be an execution in this house this night, if the miserable tables and chairs were not my brother David's property. Upon my life, Craven, my attorney, had to serve two notices on the sheriff in one term, to caution him not to sell your uncle's furniture for my debts. I shouldn't have had a joint-stool to sit down on, if it hadn't been for that. And I had to get out of the railway-carriage, by heaven! for fear of arrest, and come home--if home I can call this ruin--by posting all the way, except a few miles. I did not dare to tell Craven I was coming back. I wrote from Twyford, where I--I--took a fancy to sleep last night, to no human being but yourself. My comfort is that they and all the world believe that I'm still in France. It is a pleasant state of things!" "I am grieved, Sir, to think you suffer so much."