Mr. Carlyle bowed.

“So my child is portionless,” resumed the earl, with a suppressed sigh.  “The thought that it may be an embarrassing thing for her, were I to die before she is settled in life, crosses my mind when I am in a serious mood.  That she will marry well, there is little doubt, for she possesses beauty in a rare degree, and has been reared as an English girl should be, not to frivolity and foppery.  She was trained by her mother, who save for the mad act she was persuaded into by me, was all goodness and refinement, for the first twelve years of her life, and since then by an admirable governess.  No fear that she will be decamping to Gretna Green.”

“She was a very lovely child,” observed the lawyer; “I remember that.”

“Ay; you have seen her at East Lynne, in her mother’s lifetime.  But, to return to business.  If you become the purchaser of the East Lynne estate, Mr. Carlyle, it must be under the rose.  The money that it brings, after paying off the mortgage, I must have, as I tell you, for my private use; and you know I should not be able to touch a farthing of it if the confounded public got an inkling of the transfer.  In the eyes of the world, the proprietor of East Lynne must be Lord Mount Severn—­at least for some little time afterwards.  Perhaps you will not object to that.”

Mr. Carlyle considered before replying; and then the conversation was resumed, when it was decided that he should see Warburton and Ware the first thing in the morning, and confer with them.  It was growing late when he rose to leave.

“Stay and dine with me,” said the earl.

Mr. Carlyle hesitated, and looked down at his dress—­a plain, gentlemanly, morning attire, but certainly not a dinner costume for a peer’s table.

“Oh, that’s nothing,” said the earl; “we shall be quite alone, except my daughter.  Mrs. Vane, of Castle Marling, is staying with us.  She came up to present my child at the last drawing-room, but I think I heard something about her dining out to-day.  If not, we will have it by ourselves here.  Oblige me by touching the bell, Mr. Carlyle.”

The servant entered.

“Inquire whether Mrs. Vane dines at home,” said the earl.

“Mrs. Vane dines out, my lord,” was the man’s immediate reply.  “The carriage is at the door now.”

“Very well.  Mr. Carlyle remains.”

At seven o’clock the dinner was announced, and the earl wheeled into the adjoining room.  As he and Mr. Carlyle entered it at one door, some one else came in by the opposite one.  Who—­what—­was it?  Mr. Carlyle looked, not quite sure whether it was a human being—­he almost thought it more like an angel.

A light, graceful, girlish form; a face of surpassing beauty, beauty that is rarely seen, save from the imagination of a painter; dark shining curls falling on her neck and shoulders, smooth as a child’s; fair, delicate arms decorated with pearls, and a flowing dress of costly white lace.  Altogether the vision did indeed look to the lawyer as one from a fairer world than this.