"I shall not mention it," said Coralie. "Do not despair, Edgar," said Sir John. "I do not believe--I never shall!" "I wrote to London last night," continued Coralie, "for Mr. Dempster, who was Sir Barnard's lawyer on one or two occasions. You, of course, Mr. Edgar Trevelyan, will retain the services of the family solicitors." "I shall need no solicitors if your story be true. I shall not seek to defraud Miles' son of his birthright; I shall yield it to him." "You will find it true in every particular," she said; "and remember always that it is your own fault I have told it." With that parting shot she quitted the room. "My poor boy," said Sir John, "this is a terrible blow to you." "I am afraid," said Lady Thesiger, "that this abominable woman has spoken the truth. I always thought poor Miles had something on his mind--some secret. I told him so one day, and he did not deny it." My darling came up to me with her sweet, pale face and outstretched hands. "Never mind, Edgar," she said. "If you lose Crown Anstey I will try to love you all the more to make up for it." What could I do but bless her and thank her? Yet I knew--God help me, I knew in losing my fortune I lost her! CHAPTER XII. The little party that had so gayly assembled in the old library broke up in the deepest gloom. Sir John was the only one who seemed at all incredulous. "Rely upon it," he said, "that, after all, it is some trick of the French woman." But Lady Thesiger had no such hope. "I felt sure there was something wrong with Miles," she said. "He was not happy. He had married in haste and repented at leisure." For my own part, I had no hope. Remembering the subtle, seductive beauty of the woman, I could well imagine Miles being led, even against himself, into a marriage or anything else. When they were gone I went back to the library. I wanted to face this terrible blow alone, to realize the possibility that instead of being Sir Edgar Trevelyan, of Crown Anstey, wealthy, honored and powerful, I was Edgar Trevelyan, poor, homeless and penniless. Could it be possible that after this life of ease, luxury and happiness, I was to fall back into the old position--hard, monotonous labor, with eighty pounds per annum? It seemed too hard. Do not think any the worse of me, reader, if I own that the tears came into my eyes. It was bitterly hard. Without warning Coralie entered the room. It must have been a triumph to her to see the tears in my eyes. She stood at some little distance from me. "Edgar," she asked, "do you hate me?" "No! I am too just to hate you for claiming what is your own. You ought to have told me before, Coralie. It has been most cruel to let me live in this delusive dream. If you had told me that night when I came here first, it would have been a momentary disappointment, but I should have gone back to my work none the worse for it."