‘We are engaged with the full consent of Lucille’s adopted father—her only friend,’ answered Lucius. ‘I am glad of that. And what put it into your head to come to me?’ ‘Because I thought you might be able to assist Lucille in establishing her claim to any heritage to which she may be entitled.’ ‘If she is the legitimate and only child of Henry Glenlyne, she is entitled to a very fine estate, which is now enjoyed by a man my brother never intended to benefit by it. He was doatingly fond of his brother’s son Henry; and although the young man disappointed him in many things, that love was never seriously diminished. He left Henry the bulk of his fortune, with reversion to any child or children that might be born to him. He knew that I had an income more than enough for my wants, so he left almost all to his nephew. Spalding Glenlyne’s name was put in at the suggestion of Mr. Pullman, but it was never supposed that he would inherit the estate.’ Once set going, Miss Glenlyne was quite willing to relate all she could remember about her brother Reginald, her nephew Henry, and Félicie Dumarques. She spoke of the Spalding Glenlynes with rancour, and declared her readiness to assist Lucille, so far as lay in her power, in the assertion of her claim to the Glenlyne estate, which consisted of various lands and tenements in Norfolk, and though yielding the usual low rate of interest, produced between three and four thousand a year. Before taking her chicken-broth, Miss Glenlyne ordered an impromptu dinner of mutton-chops to be prepared for her visitors, and, when Lucius mentioned his sister Janet as a reason for declining this proffered hospitality, insisted that he should go instantly and fetch that young lady. Lucius dutifully obeyed, and while he was gone Miss Glenlyne opened her heart more and more to Lucille, moved by the recollection of that gentle girl who had ministered to her frivolous and innumerable wants with such unwearying solicitude. ‘It makes me feel twenty years younger to have you with me,’ said the old lady. ‘I like young faces and pretty looks and gentle manners. Spilling, my maid, whom you saw just now, is good and devoted, but she is elderly and uncultivated and not pleasant to look at. She knows I like quiet, of course, at my age and with my weak health. I have had bad health all my life, my dear; quiet is essential. But Spilling is over-anxious on this point, and keeps every one away from me. I am shut up in this drawing-room like a jewel that is kept in cotton-wool and never taken out to be worn. Spilling is extremely attentive—never lets my fire get low, or forgets the correct time for my beef-tea and chicken-broth. But I feel the solitude depressing sometimes. A little youthful society, a little music, would be quite cheering. You play and sing now, I daresay?’ ‘Very little, though I am fond of music,’ answered Lucille; ‘but Janet, Mr. Davoren’s sister, sings beautifully.’