One fine morning he came into the drawing-room and began to arrange some music on the top of the piano. Lady Vandeleur, at the other end of the apartment, was speaking somewhat eagerly with her brother, Charlie Pendragon, an elderly young man, much broken with dissipation, and very lame of one foot. The private secretary, to whose entrance they paid no regard, could not avoid overhearing a part of their conversation. "To-day or never," said the lady. "Once and for all, it shall be done to-day." "To-day, if it must be," replied the brother, with a sigh. "But it is a false step, a ruinous step, Clara; and we shall live to repent it dismally." Lady Vandeleur looked her brother steadily and somewhat strangely in the face. "You forget," she said; "the man must die at last." "Upon my word, Clara," said Pendragon, "I believe you are the most heartless rascal in England." "You men," she returned, "are so coarsely built, that you can never appreciate a shade of meaning. You are yourselves rapacious, violent, immodest, careless of distinction; and yet the least thought for the future shocks you in a woman. I have no patience with such stuff. You would despise in a common banker the imbecility that you expect to find in us." "You are very likely right," replied her brother; "you were always cleverer than I. And, anyway, you know my motto: The family before all." "Yes, Charlie," she returned, taking his hand in hers, "I know your motto better than you know it yourself. 'And Clara before the family!' Is not that the second part of it? Indeed, you are the best of brothers, and I love you dearly." Mr. Pendragon got up, looking a little confused by these family endearments. "I had better not be seen," said he. "I understand my part to a miracle, and I'll keep an eye on the Tame Cat." "Do," she replied. "He is an abject creature, and might ruin all." She kissed the tips of her fingers to him daintily; and the brother withdrew by the boudoir and the back stair. "Harry," said Lady Vandeleur turning towards the secretary as soon as they were alone, "I have a commission for you this morning. But you shall take a cab; I cannot have my secretary freckled." She spoke the last words with emphasis and a look of half-motherly pride that caused great contentment to poor Harry; and he professed himself charmed to find an opportunity of serving her. "It is another of our great secrets," she went on archly, "and no one must know of it but my secretary and me. Sir Thomas would make the saddest disturbance; and if you only knew how weary I am of these scenes! O Harry, Harry, can you explain to me what makes you men so violent and unjust? But, indeed, I know you cannot; you are the only man in the world who knows nothing of these shameful passions; you are so good, Harry, and so kind; you, at least, can be a woman's friend; and, do you know? I think you make the others more ugly by comparison."