This was said perfectly in a matter-of-course fashion, without the least idea, apparently, on the part of the old lady, that there was anything astonishing in the lie which came from Lord Winterbourne. “I know everything about it,” she continued; “my father made over the little house to my dear old professor, when we supposed she would have occasion to leave me: _that_ turned out a vain separation, thanks to _him_ again;” and here Miss Rivers grew white for an instant, and pressed her lips together. “Please Heaven, my boy, he’ll not be successful this time. No. I know everything about it; we’ll foil my lord in this.” “But there must have been a deed,” said Charlie; “do you know where the papers are?” “Papers! I tell you I am acquainted with every circumstance--I myself. You can call me as a witness,” said the old lady. “No, I can’t tell you where the papers are. What’s about them? eh? Do you mean to say they are of more consequence than me?” “There are sure to be documents on the other side,” said Charlie; “the original deed would settle the question, without needing even a trial: without it Lord Winterbourne has the better chance. Personal testimony is not equal to documents in a case like this.” “Young Atheling,” said Miss Rivers, drawing herself up to her full height, “do you think a jury of this county would weigh _his_ word against mine?” Charlie was considerably embarrassed. “I suppose not,” he said, somewhat abruptly; “but this is not a thing of words. Lord Winterbourne will never appear at all; but if he has any papers to produce proving his case, the matter will be settled at once; and unless we have counterbalancing evidence of the same kind, we’d better give it up before it comes that length.” He said this half impatient, half despairing. Miss Rivers evidently took up this view of the question with dissatisfaction; but as he persevered in it, came gradually to turn her thoughts to other means of assisting him. “But I know of no papers,” she said, with disappointment; “my father’s solicitor, to be sure, he is the man to apply to. I shall make a point of seeing him to-morrow; and what papers I have I will look over. By the by, now I remember it, the Old Wood Lodge belonged to her grandfather or great-grandfather, dear old soul, and came to us by some mortgage or forfeit. It was given back--_restored_, not bestowed upon her. For her life!--I should like to find out now what he means by such a lie!” Charlie, who could throw no light upon this subject, rose to go, somewhat disappointed, though not at all discouraged. The old lady stopped him on his way, carried him off to another room, and administered, half against Charlie’s will, a glass of wine. “Now, young Atheling, you can go,” said Miss Anastasia. “I’ll remember both you and your business. What are they bringing you up to? eh?” “I’m in a solicitor’s office,” said Charlie.