‘You must tell me all about your meeting with him by and by,’ she said. ‘I have very little more to say. Those two, Janet and Mr. Vandeleur, were brought very much together by their common genius. He accompanied her songs, taught her new forms of expression, showed her the mechanics of her art; and her improvement under this tuition, even in a little less than three weeks, was marvellous. They sang together, played concertante duets for violin and piano, and sometimes spent hours together alone in this room, preparing some new surprise for the evening. You will say that I ought to have considered the danger of such companionship for a romantic inexperienced girl. I should have done so, perhaps, had I not believed in this Mr. Vandeleur, and had there not been lurking in my mind a dim idea that a marriage between him and Janet would be the most natural thing in the world. True, that according to his own showing his resources were small in the present; yet there could be no doubt, I thought, that he would ultimately be reconciled to his father, and restored to his proper position. But remember, Mr. Hossack, this was only a vague notion, an idea of something that might happen in the remote future, when we should have become a great deal better acquainted with Mr. Vandeleur and his surroundings. Of present danger I had not a thought.’ ‘Strange blindness,’ said Geoffrey. ‘But then Fortune is blind, and in this instance you were Fortune.’ ‘Bear in mind,’ replied Lady Baker, ‘that this man was full fifteen years Janet’s senior, that she was immensely admired by men who were younger, and, in the ordinary sense of the word, far more attractive. Why should I think this man would exercise so fatal an influence over her? But towards the end of her visit my eyes were opened. I came into this room one morning and found Janet in tears by yonder piano, while Mr. Vandeleur bent over her, speaking in a low earnest voice. Both started guiltily at sight of me. This, and numerous other trifling indications, told me that there was mischief at work; and when Mr. Davoren wrote to me a few days afterwards, urging his daughter’s return, I was only too glad to let her go, believing that the end of her visit would be the end of all danger. When she was gone, I considered it my duty, as her friend, to ascertain the real state of the case. I told Mr. Vandeleur my suspicions, and assured him of my sympathy and my interest if he were, as I believed, anxious to win Janet for his wife. But to my utter astonishment and indignation he repudiated the idea; declared his profound esteem and admiration for Miss Davoren, and talked of “fetters” the nature of which he did not condescend to explain. “Yet I found you talking to that young lady in a manner which had moved her to tears,” I said doubtfully. “My dear madam, I had been telling her the troubles of my youth,” he answered with perfect self-possession, “and that gentle heart was moved to