"She is showing a disposition to coquet with Richard," rejoined Sir Joseph, with the air of a man who knew female human nature in its remotest corners. "My telegram, Lavinia, will have its effect." Sir Joseph was quite right. His telegram _had_ its effect. It not only brought his daughter back to dinner--it produced another result which his prophetic faculty had altogether failed to foresee. The message reached Berkeley Square at five o'clock in the afternoon. Let us follow the message. FIFTH SCENE. The Square. Between four and five in the afternoon--when the women of the Western regions are in their carriages, and the men are at their clubs--London presents few places more conveniently adapted for purposes of private talk than the solitary garden inclosure of a square. On the day when Richard Turlington paid his visit to Muswell Hill, two ladies (with a secret between them) unlocked the gate of the railed garden in Berkeley Square. They shut the gate after entering the inclosure, but carefully forbore to lock it as well, and carefully restricted their walk to the westward side of the garden. One of them was Natalie Graybrooke. The other was Mrs. Sancroft's eldest daughter. A certain temporary interest attached, in the estimation of society, to this young lady. She had sold well in the marriage market. In other words, she had recently been raised to the position of Lord Winwood's second wife; his lordship conferring on the bride not only the honors of the peerage, but the additional distinction of being stepmother to his three single daughters, all older than herself. In person, Lady Winwood was little and fair. In character, she was dashing and resolute--a complete contrast to Natalie, and (on that very account) Natalie's bosom friend. "My dear, one ambitious marriage in the family is quite enough! I have made up my mind that _you_ shall marry the man you love. Don't tell me your courage is failing you--the excuse is contemptible; I decline to receive it. Natalie! the men have a phrase which exactly describes your character. You want back-bone!" The bonnet of the lady who expressed herself in these peremptory terms barely reached the height of Natalie's shoulder. Natalie might have blown the little airy, light-haired, unsubstantial creature over the railings of the garden if she had taken a good long breath and stooped low enough. But who ever met with a tall woman who had a will of her own? Natalie's languid brown eyes looked softly down in submissive attention from an elevation of five feet seven. Lady Winwood's brisk blue eyes looked brightly up in despotic command from an elevation of four feet eleven (in her shoes). "You are trifling with Mr. Linzie, my dear. Mr. Linzie is a nice fellow. I like him. I won't have that." "Louisa!"