To this lady Aylesford took his little girl, then only two years old, and said: “I wish you to bring her up under the name of Leonora Lockhart, her mother’s maiden name, and her own, though not all of it. When she is married, let her know that the rest of it is _Aylesford_. She is so young she will not remember much of her father. Keep both her and the world in ignorance of the fact that she is born to a fortune. My wish is that she shall not be the victim of a fortune-hunter in marriage; and you will take all needful steps to carry out my wish. I leave you the address of my man of business, Mr. Keep, in New York, who will supply you with a thousand dollars a year as your compensation for supporting and educating her. Neither she nor any one else must know that even this allotment is on her account. My physician orders me to pass the winter in Cuba, and I may not return. Should that be my lot, I look to you to be in the place of a parent to my child. Her relations may suppose her dead. I shall not undeceive them. Her nearest relative is her aunt, my sister, Mrs. Pompilard, who, in the event of my death, will be legally satisfied that such a disposition is made of my property that it cannot directly or indirectly fall into the hands of that irreclaimable spendthrift, her husband. As I have lived for the last twenty years at the West, I do not think you will have any difficulty in keeping my secret.” Subsequently he said: “On the day of Leonora’s marriage, should she have passed her eighteenth year, the trustees of my property will have directions to hand over to her the income. Till that it is done, your lips must be sealed in regard to her prospects. In the event of her remaining single, I have made provisions which Mr. Keep will explain to you. I am resolved that my daughter shall not have to buy a husband.” Mrs. Ridgway accepted the trust in the same frank spirit in which it was offered. Mr. Aylesford took leave of his little girl, and before the next spring she was fatherless. Her eighteenth birthday found her developed into a young lady of singular grace and beauty, with accomplishments which showed that the body had not been neglected in adorning the mind. But the mystery that surrounded her family and origin produced a shyness that kept her aloof from social intimacies. Vainly did her attentive friends try to overcome her fondness for solitary musings and rides. She was possessed with the idea that she was an illegitimate child, though to this suspicion she never gave utterance till candor seemed to compel it.