"In that case, madam, you must have been very young-quite a child, in fact. The town may therefore have some novelty for you. Fortunately, the season is just commencing, and-"

"Alas, sir, I am not in a position to avail myself of gaieties." "Indeed? Egad, madam, I protest you distress me."

"It is because I have recently met with a sad misfortune." "You are too young, and—if I might be permitted to say it-too fair to be the prey of misfortune, madam. The misfortune is not, I trust, irremediable ? ”

"I fear it is, sir. I speak of the loss of my husband.”

Sir Francis was a little puzzled. Was this lady more or less of a woman of the world than he had imagined? Was there not, after all, something of the ingénue about her? To be sure, a widow cannot, as a general thing, be accurately described as an ingénue; but, practically, this widow might be so. For all her polished self-possession of voice and bearing—which might as well be the result of early education as of the training of worldly experience-for all this, her mind and heart might be fresh and unsophisticated. There was a flavour of artlessness, almost of innocent appeal, in what she said. The baronet felt his benevolent heart expand. The prospect of relations -business relations, of course-with a young lady at once so attractive and so unprotected, enchanted him. But it was necessary to be sure of his ground to inquire further.

"Widowhood for the young and beautiful is indeed the most pathetic of all predicaments!" he exclaimed with feeling. "I should judge, madam, that you can't have enjoyed the married state long?"

"Not very long; though it seems long in one way."

Ay; and all too short in another, no doubt. Ah, my dear madam, I can sympathise with you; I have had my bereavements, egad! and my sorrows. These are terrible times, madam; though, thank God, that Corsican monster is safe at last: but he has made many widows, in this country and elsewhere. Your husband, perhaps, fell upon the field of battle ? "

No, sir. Perhaps I should have told you that my husband was

a Frenchman."

This reply embarrassed Sir Francis. It was his intention to be agreeable to the lady, and he had unwittingly disturbed her sensibilities. But a few moments sufficed him to recover his self-possession. Not for a trifle of consistency would he forfeit the good opinion of so charming a client.

"The French," he said, "are a brave and noble people. Now

that there is no longer war between us and them we can acknowledge it. Bonaparte, after all, was a great general, and a man of genius. No one can regret more than myself, madam, the necessity which has removed him to St. Helena."

"Is that your opinion, sir?" returned the lady coldly. "My husband was a monarchist. To him Bonaparte was a usurper and a tyrant."

Sir Francis struggled not to appear put out of countenance. "Damn these French!" he said internally; "you never know where you are with 'em." Aloud he said: "Your husband was right, madam, from his point of view. He was loyal to his convictions and to his traditions. Everyone must respect them and him-no one, certainly, more than I myself, who am the loyal supporter of my own king. That such a man as your husband should be cut off in the prime of his youth is a calamity to his country," concluded Sir Francis, feeling that at all events he was safe there.

"I beg your pardon, sir?" said the lady ingenuously.

"Your husband, I say, dying in the first flush of youth" “Oh, my husband was not a very young man," interposed the lady gravely." In fact, it may be said that he died of old age. He was only a little over seventy, it is true; but he had for several years past been in very infirm health.”

"Zounds, madam, you-you surprise me!" exclaimed Sir Francis, almost losing patience. Reflecting, however, that it was unlikely a wife so youthful should have felt any passionate attachment to a husband so ancient, he plucked up courage: the task of consoling the lady would be by so much the less difficult. She sat there very quietly, with her hands resting one within another in her lap, and her dark eyes sparkling through her veil. Sir Francis conceived a strong desire to see that veil lifted. But he would proceed cautiously.

“You are, then, alone in the world?" he remarked compassionately. "Probably, however, you may have kinsfolk in England or France who

"Indeed, sir, I am very unhappy," said the lady, with a melancholy simplicity. "Such few relatives as I possess are not, I fear, kindly disposed towards me."

"Surely they must be very unnatural persons-ahem !" cried Sir Francis indignantly. "But let me entreat you not to be downcast, my dear madam. Providence sometimes raises up friends to us when we least expect it. If I might speak of myself——”

"Indeed, you are very good," said the lady softly, and with a

little movement of one of her hands that seemed to indicate confidence and gratitude. Sir Francis moved his chair a little nearer. The lady continued: "My husband, you must know, has left me the entire control of his property, which I believe is very large. I think his income was what you would call, in your money, ten thousand pounds is it not?-every year: but I may be mistaken: I am so stupid in those affairs: at least, it was more than three hundred thousand francs."

"In that case, madam, you would be rather under than over the truth in your estimate," said the baronet, bowing with increased tenderness of manner, and bringing his chair so close to that of his visitor that she drew back a little, with a movement half-startled, half-coquettish. "We must speak low," the baronet hastened to say; "this room is not quite so secluded as I could wish, and curious ears .. but to the point. This property--"

"I feel so helpless," said the lady, leaning forward with an impulse of confidence. "I do not care for money: I do not under. stand its value, nor how to manage it. I am overwhelmed with this responsibility, which I would gladly have escaped. But my husband's will was very stringent and precise in its terms, and I have no choice but to accept the burden he has laid upon me."

"Very right, my dear madam: your sentiments do you every honour. 'Tis a responsibility, indeed-but one which, with good advice, you can easily support. I may say, without vanity, that my experience in matters of finance is as extensive——”

"Oh, sir, I am already convinced of it," interposed the lady cordially. "Your reputation is as high on the Continent as here. A friend of my husband's-known, I believe, also to you-counselled me to come to you and to put myself unreservedly in your hands, The name of the gentleman was Mr. Lancaster-Mr. Philip Lancaster, I think."

"Lancaster! yes, yes," said Sir Francis genially. "I have seen Philip a fine young fellow, though with a turn for poetry: but he is still young. The Lancasters, madam, as I doubt not you are aware, are kin to the Barons Croftus: it is the family name. They are relatives of my own through my late wife, who was a Lancaster. Philip is my nephew by marriage, though not by blood. In sending you to me he has placed me under a very heavy obligationahem!"

"You cannot expect me to believe, sir, that the management of a property like that of my late husband can be much of an object to one who is accustomed to lend money to empires."

The obligation has

"My dear madam, you misapprehend me. reference to yourself, not to your property. As to that, I trust you will not think so ill of me as to imagine that I would seek my own profit in any transactions I might be fortunate enough to carry out for you."

"What you say, sir, persuades me that the English are the most genteel people in the world. And besides," added the lady, looking down and turning the pearl-and-diamond ring upon the finger of her ungloved hand, "it relieves me from an embarrassment." Here she looked up again, and Sir Francis felt the dark eyes meeting his own. He was by this time in a mood to exchange a great deal that financiers hold dear for something not more substantial than a draft upon the bank of sentiment. He had been open to romantic impressions in his youth, and his old age was not entirely emancipated from occasional bondage of that sort. But never, he thought, in all his experience, had he encountered aught so bewitching in the shape of woman as she who now sat before him. There could be no doubt that she was already extremely well-disposed towards him; and his redoubtable heart, which had seen him through many a tough encounter of more kinds than one, actually beat with anticipation as he pictured to himself the felicity that might be in store for him.

"Never!" he exclaimed fervently, laying his hand upon his heart, and allowing the ardour of his feelings to glow through the handsome dignity of his countenance,—“ never, madam, need you be a prey to any embarrassment from which the utmost of my humble endeavours may suffice to free you."

"I am convinced of your kindness and goodness; but, dear sir, I am aware that matters of business cannot be controlled by the dictates of generous feeling. For my own part, I should never have dreamed of making any stipulations; but, as I observed just now, the directions in my late husband's will are painfully stringent. I must confess to you that it was not altogether in accordance with his wishes that I should reside in England after his death."

There was a slight tremor in the tone in which she made this confession. Sir Francis leaned forward, devoured with tender curiosity.

"In fact, sir, he was opposed to it. But it had always been my dream to revisit my native land; for I am an Englishwoman by birth, though so long an exile. I therefore resolved, if it were possible, to overcome the obstacles which he had placed in my way. It rests with you, dear sir, to decide whether or not I am to succeed."

"With me! my dear-my very dear madam," cried the baronet, impulsively extending his hands and imprisoning one of hers between them. "Do I hear you say that it is my happy privilege to be so far the arbiter of your destiny? Oh, charming woman! command me! enlighten me! show me how I can prevent you from ever putting a greater distance between us than-ahem!-than——”

"You must not speak like this," gently interposed the lady, as the baronet hesitated for a phrase. She withdrew her hand from his own, yet so that the deprivation seemed to convey more of regard than would the caress of another woman. "You make me regret my coming to you on this errand: it would be better, I think, if you could direct me to some other banker-—”

"Some other! Impossible! How have I been so unhappy as to make you regret this interview?"

"It could be for only one reason," said the lady, still more kindly. "You lead me to esteem so highly the value of your friendship, that I cannot but regret it should be mingled with interests of a less elevated character. I could prize you so much as a friend that I am reluctant to think of myself as your customer."

Sir Francis positively blushed, and it was some moments before he recovered himself. "Do not think of yourself as my customer!" he then exclaimed, yielding himself completely to the fascinations of this veiled enchantress; "think of me as yours-as the customer who applies to you for all that renders his existence a blessing to him-for your friendship, your favour, your . . . .'

"Oh, sir!" murmured the lady, rising in confusion.

"Charming creature!" supplicated the baronet; "be to me what you will, but do not rob me of the gift of your presence! Do not mistrust me—I am all gentleness and veneration. I am impulsive ; but a look, a word, restrains me. Come, we will speak of business : business shall be the lowly yet honourable route by which we may in due course travel to better things. But, business first! How can I be of service to you? Is it your desire to make any deposit? Is there any negotiation . . . .; but pray, honour me by resuming your seat."

...

"I blame myself for detaining you so long: but I will try to be brief. It amounts to a question of the rate of interest. I am so little acquainted with money-matters, sir, as to be ignorant of the current rate in England."

"Your ignorance does you no discredit, madam. The fluctuations in the money-market have of late years been great; at present, happily, confidence is being restored, and interest is lower. Six per cent. would I think represent a liberal-———”