“Perhaps her roses may fade at sea,” said Clement, “and disenchantment may ensue.”

“At least I hope Alda may not hear of it, or she will be in an agony of expectation as long as hope lasts.  Gerald is gone, of course?”

“Oh yes!” said Lance, who had had a farewell from him with the words, “Get it over while I am out of the way, and tell them I don’t mind.”

Cursory and incomprehensible, but conclusive; and Lance, who minded enough to have lost sleep and gained a headache, marvelled over young men’s lightness and buoyancy.  He had seen Dr. Brownlow, and arranged that there should be a call, as a friend, in due time after the communication, in case it should hurt Clement, and when Geraldine observed merrily that now they were quit of all the young ones they could feel like old times, he was quite grieved to disturb her pleasure.

Clement, however, began by taking out a letter and saying—-

“Here is a remarkable missive left for me yesterday—-’If the Rev. Underwood wishes to hear of something to his advantage, he should communicate with Mr. O’L., care of Mr. John Bast, van proprietor, Whitechapel.’  An impostor?” said he.

“I am afraid not,” said Lance.  “Clement, I fear there is no doubt that she is that singing Hungarian woman who was the ruin of Edgar’s life.”

“Gerald’s mother!” exclaimed Geraldine.

“Even so.”

“But she is gone!  She gave up all rights.  She can’t claim anything.  Has she worried him?”

“Yes, poor boy!  She has declared that she had actually a living husband at the time she married our poor Edgar.”

Of course both broke out into exclamations that it was impossible, and Lance had to tell them of his interview with the woman at Gerald’s entreaty.  They were neither of them so overcome by the disclosure as he had feared during his long delay.

“I believe it is only an attempt at extortion,” said Clement.

“Very cruel,” said Geraldine.  “How-—how did my poor boy bear it all this time?”

“He was very much knocked down at first, quite overwhelmed, but less by the loss than by the shame, and the imputation on his father.”

“It was no fault of dear Edgar’s.”

“No, indeed.  I am glad Fernan is here to go over again what Edgar told him.  We may be quite satisfied so far.”

“And is it needful to take it up?” asked Geraldine wistfully.  “If we don’t believe it, the horrid story would get quashed.”

“No, Cherry,” said Clement.  “If you think it over you will see that we must investigate.  I should be relieved indeed to let it alone, but it would not be fair towards Lance there and his boys.”

Lance made a strange noise of horror and deprecation, then added—-

“I don’t believe Gerald would consent to let it alone.”

“No, now he knows, of course.  He is a right-minded, generous boy,” said Geraldine.  “I was wrong.  Did you say he was very much upset?”