stained.  Yet still there were many who regarded these rumours as the mere whisperings of envy, and with them he was as much a favourite as ever.  Amongst these was Annie Grahame, whose marked preference more than atoned to the Viscount for her father’s coldness.  In vain Grahame commanded that his daughter should change her manner towards him.  She, who had prevailed on a daughter to disobey this very mandate from the lips of an indulgent parent, was not likely to regard that of the father whose sternness and often uncalled-for severity had completely alienated her affections, and Lord Alphingham had now another urgent reason to flatter Annie’s vanity and make her his own.

A distant relation and godmother of Lady Helen Grahame had, most unexpectedly, left her at her death sole heiress to a handsome fortune, which was to descend undivided to her elder daughter, and thus to Annie’s other attractions was now added that all-omnipotent charm, the knowledge that she was an heiress, not perhaps to any very large property, but quite sufficient to most agreeably enlarge the fortune of any gentleman who would venture to take her for better or worse.  One would have supposed that now every wish of this aspiring young lady was gratified; but no.  It mattered not, though crowds were at her feet, that when they met, which was very seldom, even Caroline was no longer her rival, all the affection she possessed was lavished without scruple on Lord Alphingham, and every thought was turned, every effort directed towards the accomplishment of that one design.  So deeply engrossed was she in this resolution, that she had no time nor thought to annoy Caroline, as she had intended, except in exercising to its full extent her power over Lord Alphingham whenever she was present, in which the Viscount’s own irritated feelings towards her ably assisted.  Caroline felt the truth of her mother’s words, that Lord Alphingham, indeed, had never honourably loved her; that Annie’s conduct justified Mrs. Hamilton’s prejudice, and as her heart shrunk in sadness from the retrospection of these, truths, it swelled in yet warmer affection, not only towards her fond and watchful mother, but towards the friends that mother’s judicious choice selected and approved.

Cecil Grahame had been continually in the habit of drawing upon his mother’s cash for the indulgence of his extravagant pleasures, and Lady Helen had thoughtlessly satisfied all his wishes, without being in the least aware of the evil propensities she was thus encouraging.  It was not till Cecil was about to leave Eton for the University, that she was at all startled at the amount of his debts, and then her principal alarm arose more from the dread of her husband’s anger towards her son, if he discovered the fact, than from any maternal anxiety for Cecil’s unsteady principles.  Her only wish was to pay off these numerous debts, without disclosing them to the husband she so weakly dreaded.  How could she obtain so large a sum,