"My poor forlorn woman," I replied, "for God's sake, recollect you are a mother! Whoever forgets that is less than human. Think of your poor, dear, beautiful children. It is wrong perhaps to intrigue under any circumstances, yet somebody who was wise, or who passed for wise, has said that there are exceptions to every rule. Mr. Napier is rich and free. I think that it depends on you to provide for your children. Consider, my dear Julia," I continued, taking her hand; and I saw a tear glisten in her eye. "When do you expect Mr. Napier?" I asked. "The long-backed odious creature will call here to-morrow," answered Julia. "I wish something else could be done," said I hastily, sympathising in her disgust. "Shall I write to your uncle, Lord Carysfort?" "Do not mention that unfeeling wretch!" exclaimed Julia. "A legacy has been left me, which I cannot help thinking has been unfairly appropriated." "Have you applied to his lordship on that subject?" I inquired. "I have written to him twice," answered Julia, "and my second letter was answered by his lordship in these words, 'The person from whom you expected a legacy showed a becoming horror and disgust at your vile profligate conduct by withdrawing your name from his will.'" "Rely on it," said I, "that honourable uncle of yours has taken due care of your property. But what can be expected from one thus destitute of every manly feeling of compassion towards a poor, fallen, defenceless relative!" Julia absolutely sobbed aloud. I never saw her thus affected; for she was not given to the melting mood. To change the conversation, I asked her what had become of another noble relative. "He has paid nearly a thousand pounds for me, and declares he can do no more," replied Julia. "No matter," said I, "Napier is your man." "But Napier's vanity makes me sick," retorted Julia impatiently. "The possession of my person would not satisfy him. He wants me to declare and prove that I love him; and the thing is physically impossible." I thought of Fred Lamb and was silent. "What has become of Amy and Argyle?" I asked, after a pause. "Amy," said Julia, "is very proud of Argyle and also of her pregnancy, and lives in hopes that her unborn babe by the Scottish laws may yet be Duke of Argyle." "She has bespoken a boy then?" "Of that too she lives in hopes," repeated Julia. "And the Duke," inquired I, with something like a sickness of the heart, "is he as tender and as loving as ever?" "I have heard nothing to the contrary," answered Julia. I was not jealous, but disgusted. I had always wished to love my sisters dearly. It was very hard on me that they would not let me! "If," said Julia, "I were to consent to Napier's wishes, and he did not provide for my children, I should go into the Serpentine River the very next instant."