“Certainly. Miss Turquand has been living there for two or three years; she is her ladyship’s companion. If you have no other engagement of pressing importance, I fancy the most easy and agreeable way would be to call at the house this evening, about eight o’clock. Lady Quaintree is to have some sort of reception to-night, and, as I am almost one of the household, we could see her before the people begin to arrive.” Paul Desfrayne gave way to fate. There was no help for it, so he was obliged to agree to this arrangement, or choose to think himself obliged, which was worse. Frank Amberly thought that not many men would have received with such obvious repugnance the position of sole trustee to a beautiful girl of eighteen, who had just become entitled to a splendid fortune, especially when there were such provisions in his own favor. “It is thus he receives what _I_ would have given--what would I _not_ have given?--to have obtained the trust,” he said mentally, with a keen pang of jealous envy. It was a strange freak of Dame Fortune--who yet must surely be a spiteful old maid--to bring these two men, of all others, into such communication. Paul Desfrayne’s thoughts were in a kind of whirl, an entanglement which was anything but conducive to clear deliberation or calm reflection. They eddied and surged with deadly fury round one great rock that reared its cruel black crest before him, standing there in the midst of his life, impassive, coldly menacing. Hitherto, with the exception of one fatal occasion, he had always consulted his mother on all matters of difficulty or perplexity. But now he must carefully conceal his real thoughts from that still beloved counselor. It was useless to go to her, as of yore, for advice as to the best course to take: he dared not tell her this miserable secret which bound him in a viselike grip. His mother would at once, he knew--unconscious that any link in the chain was concealed from her--say he must be mad not to accept, without hesitation, this trust. She would certainly urge him, for the sake of this unknown girl herself. He must decide now: it would, perhaps, only make matters worse if he delayed, or asked time for consideration. Besides, if he refused, what rational reason could he assign to any one of those concerned for declining the trust? No; he must agree to whatever was set before him now, although by so doing he would almost with his own hands sow what might prove to be the most bitter harvest in the future. He was within a maze, wherein he did not at present discern the slightest clue to guide him to the outlet of escape. It was impossible to explain his position to any one, yet he felt that it was next to pitiful cowardice to march under false colors.