reeked of money, but, strange to say, it did not oppress one as such things usually do. The fact is, the owners of these extravagancies did not value them one whit because they had cost money. They were ready to leave them all behind to-morrow--indeed, they were going to do so; and John Vansittart had remarked more than once to his wife, that it was a pity they hadn’t some good friend to whom they could make over the whole lot as a present, instead of letting them go for nothing at auction. But that was just their trouble. They had no friends--hardly any acquaintances. Grace had come home to them, fresh from her school, and good, honest Mrs Vansittart was not the sort of woman to push her way into society, even with the aid of her enormous wealth. She was too shy and retiring to do so. That was the reason they had become intimate with Godfrey Harland. He had met Mr Vansittart first in the city, and, passing himself off as a bachelor, had been taken home to the big house in the park by that gentleman, and introduced to his family. They had all received him with open arms. He was good-looking, fashionable, and very wide awake. He put the father up to all sorts of dodges. He flattered the mother, and helped her out of all her difficulties, and he (almost) made love to the daughter. At least he showed her a great deal of attention, and Grace Vansittart repaid it in kind. It was natural she should. He was about the only ‘swell’ (as she would have expressed it) who came to their house, and her fashionable training had taught her to discriminate, and to like ‘swells.’ She hated the idea of settling in New Zealand, although she could not of course go against her parents’ wishes, and would very much have preferred marrying, and remaining in England. Had he been single, Harland would have found it an easy game to play. He might even have been left in possession of the palatial house and furniture. But the house would not have suited his purpose, as we know. He was not actually planning to commit bigamy--he was not even sure if he wished it--but he was sorely in need of the father’s money, and at any rate he felt he must make a friend of the daughter. But his friendship was conducted on such sentimental terms it might easily have been mistaken for courtship. Mr and Mrs Vansittart so mistook it. They were very fond and proud of their one ewe lamb, and watched her carefully; and they had often remarked to each other that if they didn’t mind it would come to a match between their Grace and Mr Harland. ‘And he ain’t got much money, I don’t think! You must mind that, father,’ the old lady would say.