“Dolly!” said Lady Markham. Nothing could exceed her surprise. The air of grieved doubt and hesitation which had been in her face while they discussed Janet gave way to lively astonishment and displeasure. “What do you mean by Dolly?” she said. Then Alice faltered forth an ashamed confession--that she thought--that she had supposed--that she did not know anything about it--did not believe there was anything in it--but only, Dolly---- Nothing was to be made of this hesitating speech. “Dolly,” said Lady Markham, drawing herself up, “is a dear little girl. I am very fond of her. In her proper place she is charming; but my dear Alice, Dolly is scarcely more suitable for Paul, in his position. Ah!----” Lady Markham stopped short and hid her face in her hands. During the time that these conversations--the visit of Janet and all its attendant circumstances, and the explanation of it thus given to Alice--were going on, these ladies lived upon the post which brought frequent communications from the people in London who were carrying on such inquiries as could be made about the intruder into the family, he who had so suddenly and decisively blighted all the prospects of Paul. Colonel Fleetwood wrote, and Mr. Scrivener, and Paul himself, though less frequently. The former was the only one that was hopeful; he was perfectly ready to believe that Gus was an impostor, and the whole thing “a got up affair.” Was it likely, he argued, that Sir William, the most steady-going old fellow, could be guilty of such a tremendous mistake? Had it only been a wickedness! but it was such a folly, such an error in judgment. A statesman, a man in parliament, one of the rulers of the country, how could any one suppose him capable of a thing so foolish? Mr. Scrivener was far less confident. He knew what a lawyer’s law was in his own private affairs, and he had not much more confidence in a stateman’s wisdom. He had not sent any one to Barbadoes, but he was making careful inquiries among all sorts of people who knew--West Indian agents, ancient governors, and consuls. And he had heard of Gus from more than one of these referees, and found his story confirmed in all points as to his life in Barbadoes. About his connexion with Sir William Markham, these people did not know, but they gave him the highest character, and confirmed his statement in many important details. The lawyer did not conceal from Lady Markham his complete conviction. Neither did Paul, who had given up his own cause at once, though he dragged on in London, dancing attendance at the lawyer’s office and hearing from day to day some fresh and, as he thought, unmeaning piece of additional proof. “Of course it is all right,” Paul wrote; “I never for a moment doubted that the man was all right. He may be a cad, but he was speaking the truth. I stay here to humour them; but I know very well that they will discover nothing which will shake his credit; and the