"All right, I'll do my best--if need arises. I suppose, Johnnie, you're a rich man?" The name "Johnnie," very rarely heard between them, went back to early days at the Bar, when Ferrier was for a time in the same chambers with the young Irishman who, within three years of being called, was making a large income; whereas Ferrier had very soon convinced himself that the Bar was not for him, nor he for the Bar, and being a man of means had "plumped" for politics. "Yes, I'm not badly off," said Ferrier; "I'm almost the last of my family; and a lot of money has found its way to me first and last. It's been precious difficult to know what to do with it. If Oliver Marsham had stuck to that delightful girl I should have left it to him." Sir James made a growling sound, more expressive than articulate. "As it is," Ferrier resumed, "I have left half of it to my old Oxford college, and half to the University." Chide nodded. Presently a slight flush rose in his very clear complexion, and he looked round on his companion with sparkling eyes. "It is odd that you should have started this subject. I too have just signed a new will." "Ah!" Ferrier's broad countenance showed a very human curiosity. "I believe you are scarcely more blessed with kindred than I?" "No. In the main I could please myself. I have left the bulk of what I had to leave--to Miss Mallory." "Excellent!" cried Ferrier. "She treats you already like a daughter." "She is very kind to me," said Sir James, with a touch of ceremony that became him. "And there is no one in whom I feel a deeper interest." "She must be made happy!" exclaimed Ferrier--"she _must_! Is there no one--besides Oliver?" Sir James drew himself up. "I hope she has put all thought of Oliver out of her mind long since. Well!--I had a letter from Lady Felton last week--dear woman that!--all the love-affairs in the county come to roost in her mind. She talks of young Roughsedge. Perhaps you don't know anything of the gentleman?" He explained, so far as his own knowledge went. Ferrier listened attentively. A soldier? Good. Handsome, modest, and capable?--better. Had just distinguished himself in this Nigerian expedition--mentioned in despatches last week. Better still!--so long as he kept clear of the folly of allowing himself to be killed. But as to the feelings of the young lady? Sir James sighed. "I sometimes see in her traces of--of inheritance--which make one anxious." Ferrier's astonishment showed itself in mouth and eyes. "What I mean is," said Sir James, hastily, "a dramatic, impassioned way of looking at things. It would never do if she were to get any damned nonsense about 'expiation,' or not being free to marry, into her head." Ferrier agreed, but a little awkwardly, since the "damned nonsense" was Lady Lucy's nonsense, and both knew it.