'I am sure of that,' said Eleanor; 'but, fortunately, my sister was enabled to take care of her father in his last illness. She was married a few months before his death to a very rich man.' 'Indeed!' said May. 'Who is he?' 'His name is Chadwick,' said Eleanor. 'I suppose he would be called a tradesman, for he is the senior member of a firm which employs hundreds of men in making boilers and engines for steam vessels. He attends to business himself, and is every day at his works, which are down the river somewhere; but they live in a splendid house in Fairfax-gardens, and Fanny now receives and goes into a great deal of what I suppose is called excellent society.' 'I recollect having heard of Mrs. Chadwick's parties, now you mention the name,' said May, 'and of their having some specialty, but what it is I cannot remember.' 'They are very grand, very hot, and, I believe, considered very splendid,' said Eleanor; 'but I do not know that there is anything particular about them, unless it be the presence of a large number of artists of different kinds--painters and musical people I mean. Fanny always takes occasion to say that she never forgets the class of which she was once a member, but I am bound to say her recognition of them is something too like patronage for my taste.' 'And you live with Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick, Eleanor? and you are happy?' 'Yes,' said Eleanor, 'I suppose so.' 'That was but a half-hearted answer,' said May. 'Are you really happy? You, used to speak frankly to me in the old days; are you frank now?' 'I never could be otherwise with you, dear Lady Forestfield, and I will tell you plainly that just now I have some cause for discomfort. The general life at Fairfax-gardens is not particularly suited to my taste; but everybody is especially kind to me, and I should make no complaint, were it not that recently Fanny seems to have made up her mind to carry out a project with which I am greatly concerned, and to which I have a strong objection.' 'This project is, of course, to marry you,' said May, 'to some friend of her own?' 'Not particularly a friend of hers,' said Eleanor, 'but a man of fashion, and for the matter of that, a celebrity, a connection with whom would, she thinks, be advantageous.' 'And you don't care for him?' asked May. 'Not in the faintest degree,' replied Eleanor. 'He is very clever, very agreeable, and particularly polished and courteous in his manner towards women; a little too polished perhaps,' she added. 'May I ask his name?' said Lady Forestfield. 'Certainly,' said Eleanor, with a smile. 'It is a curious one, but his mother or grandmother--I do not know which--was originally Greek: his name is Spiridion Pratt.' Lady Forestfield started. 'Spiridion Pratt!' she echoed; 'I think I know him; there could not be two men of that name.' 'O, he knows you,' said Eleanor; 'he has been to your house; he was taken there by Mrs. Hamblin.' 'Exactly,' said Lady Forestfield; 'I remember now.'