Always ready with the necessary lie, whenever the occasion called for it, Jervy invented a pathetic little story, in two short parts. First part: Mrs. Sowler, rich and respected; a widow inhabiting a villa-residence, and riding in her carriage. Second part: a villainous lawyer; misplaced confidence; reckless investments; death of the villain; ruin of Mrs. Sowler. “Don’t talk about her misfortunes when she wakes,” Jervy concluded, “or she’ll burst out crying, to a dead certainty. Only tell me, dear Phoebe, would _you_ turn your back on a forlorn old creature because she has outlived all her other friends, and hasn’t a farthing left in the world? Poor as I am, I can help her to a supper, at any rate.” Phoebe expressed her admiration of these noble sentiments by an inexpensive ebullition of tenderness, which failed to fulfill Jervy’s private anticipations. He had aimed straight at her purse--and he had only hit her heart! He tried a broad hint next. “I wonder whether I shall have a shilling or two left to give Mrs. Sowler, when I have paid for the supper?” He sighed, and pulled out some small change, and looked at it in eloquent silence. Phoebe was hit in the right place at last. She handed him her purse. “What is mine will be yours, when we are married,” she said; “why not now?” Jervy expressed his sense of obligation with the promptitude of a grateful man; he repeated those precious words, “My sweet girl!” Phoebe laid her head on his shoulder--and let him kiss her, and enjoyed it in silent ecstasy with half-closed eyes. The scoundrel waited and watched her, until she was completely under his influence. Then, and not till then, he risked the gradual revelation of the purpose which had induced him to withdraw from the hall, before the proceedings of the evening had reached their end. “Did you hear what Mrs. Sowler said to me, just before we left the lecture?” he asked. “No, dear.” “You remember that she asked me to tell her Farnaby’s address?” “Oh yes! And she wanted to know if he had ever gone by the name of Morgan. Ridiculous--wasn’t it?” “I’m not so sure of that, my dear. She told me, in so many words, that Farnaby owed her money. He didn’t make his fortune all at once, I suppose. How do we know what he might have done in his young days, or how he might have humbugged a feeble woman. Wait till our friend there at the fire has warmed her old bones with some hot grog--and I’ll find out something more about Farnaby’s debt.” “Why, dear? What is it to you?” Jervy reflected for a moment, and decided that the time had come to speak more plainly.