“And so the Bartons give their farewell spread this evening?  Are you going?”

“Well, I rather think so,” was the other’s reply.  “It is a thousand pities, however, to bury that lovely woman, Miss Effingham, in the country.  There is not her equal in town.  If she only had a decent allowance of cash or other property, she would have been sought for by a Coronet, you may depend on that.”

“But I heard,” continued his friend, “that she was engaged to an Indian Officer, who is expected in England shortly,” and with these words they passed out into the street.

On hearing this, Arthur determined to defer his visit a few hours longer.  There was a great rush of vehicles that night on the South side of Berkly Square.  The heavy family carriage, with its sleek horses, driven at a sober pace by old John, the dashing curricle and smart barouche, with the elegant private cab with its busy little Tiger in top boots, whose single arm stops the thorough bred animal when his master drops the reins.

“Is them ’ere hangels,” enquired the butcher boy of his crony, Tom Drops, the pot boy at the Crown and Sceptre, just round the corner, as the two young ladies, who had acted in the character of bridesmaids in the morning, stepped from their carriage on to the Indian matting which had been stretched across the pavement to the hall steps, all tarletan and rose buds, and ascended the grand staircase leading to the ball room.

“Well, if they ain’t they ought to be,” was the response of Tom Drops.  At this moment a very stout and elaborately turbaned Dowager passed slowly from her brougham along the matting and entered the hall.

“Is she a hangel too, do you think?  Don’t look much like one now,” enquired the young butcher.

“In course not,” said Tom, “they loses all the hangel when they marries, leastways so I have heard.  But who it this swell? he is bang up to the mark; he’s a horse sojer I knows, and a ossifer,” as the embroidered sabretache of Captain Carlton met his view while ascending the hall steps.  “Well, I am off,” said one to the other and the two lads went their way.

“Show me into the library, and hand this card to Miss Effingham,” said Arthur to a servant at the foot of the staircase.  The footman first looked at him, then at the name on the card, then said, with a low bow, “Certainly, sir, certainly,” and ushered the Captain to rather a snug little apartment which was used as a library.  Edith was dancing when the footman entered.  On the conclusion of the waltz he approached and quietly handed her the card.  A flush of pleasure lit up her beautiful features, and joy sparkled in her brilliant eyes, as she read the name, and without a word to any one, followed the servant and passed straight to the room where her lover waited for her.  We will pass over the transports of their first meeting,—­it can be easily imagined, as the reader, is already aware of their engagement, and that he had returned to England for the sole purpose of their union.  After the emotion of the first few moments had subsided Arthur related to her the accident by which Sir Ralph had been killed, and of the existence of her uncle’s will, and the way it had been stolen by Mrs. Fraudhurst, and Sir Ralph’s complicity in the plot.