"That's the main point, I reckon. Let us make as sure as we can, whatever else we do. It's a good lump is five hundred pounds.' "Yes; we shall have to make a trip to Italy, and the sooner we start, I think, the better."

This idea was at once acted upon. They started the very next afternoon, and ten days later Corfe received a draft on London for the sum in question-after giving up Philip Hardy's marriage certificate, which Mr. Ferret very carefully burnt.

CHAPTER LXIV.-A HAPPY THOUGHT. WHEN Balmaine called on Mr. Artful, as he did the very next day after receiving Warton's letter, the nature of the flaw in Miss Hardy's case, discovered by the Hardy Fortune Company, and of which they seemed determined to take every advantage, was fully explained to him. "There could be no question," he said, "that Philip Hardy and Vera's mother were really married, and that Vera was born in wedlock. This, Philip's letters to his father, announcing his marriage and the birth of his daughter, together with the evidence of Martino and Gabrielle Courbet abundantly proved-from a moral point of view; and if there were no opposition to Vera's claim, the Court of Chancery and the trustees would doubtless consider these proofs as sufficient. But in the event of her legitimacy being disputed-if it were asserted by parties claiming to be John Hardy's legal representatives that she was born out of wedlock, then it would be necessary to prove the marriage strictly, either by producing a properly certified copy of the marriage register, or witnesses who could testify that the union had been solemnized in accordance with the laws of the country where it took place."

In anticipation of this difficulty Mr. Artful had some time before requested the British Consul at Milan to procure and forward him this essential document, but he was informed in reply that all the public records of Balafria (where Mr. and Mrs. Hardy were married), having been destroyed during the war of 1859, his request could not be complied with. This was unfortunate, but as the Hardy Fortune Company seemed to have given up the contest, and no other claimants were forthcoming, he had assumed that they (the trustees) would have a walk over and given himself no further concern in the matter. Now, however, that their opponents had thrown down the glove-in other words filed a bill-and openly challenged Vera's legiti

macy, it had become necessary to act with vigour and despatch.

I

suppose they have found out that no certificate is producible," said the lawyer; "how, I cannot conceive. In any case, it is a dirty trick and quite like that rascal Ferret. But these Calder people can take nothing by their motion, for even if they should succeed in depriving Miss Vera of her fortune, they will not get it. I can promise them that. And they are, perhaps, counting without their host, after all. There were witnesses of the marriage, of course. We must try to find them."

"And that would do as well?"

"Quite as well."

"Don't you think Ferret knows all this?" "Of course he does. But he wants to run up a big bill of costs, and so advises his clients to fight, even though he knows that, whatever may be the issue, they have not the ghost of a chance. But the great point now, so far as we are concerned, is to hunt up the witnesses of the marriage. Will you undertake the task?"

"Go to Italy, you mean?"

"Yes; you are just the man. You know the case, you know the ground, and you know what we want. Will you do it? You may name your own terms.'

Very well; I will go and do my best," said Alfred, after a moment's thought. "When would you like me to start?"

This time Balmaine did not refuse payment. The world's buffets were beginning to wear off the edge of his Quixotism, and he really could not afford to throw away several weeks' time, even in Vera's service, or rather in the service of the Hardy fortune, which, as likely as not, would never be hers.

"When would I like you to start?" repeated the lawyer. "Well, I don't know that there is any particular hurry. Say in a week's time. Will that suit you?" "Perfectly."

"In that case we may consider the matter as settled. Look in between this and next Monday and I will give you your instructions, and what is quite as necessary, a supply of cash. These people have fired the first shot-filed their bill-but we need not put in an answer just yet. When we do, it will be to pray the court to administer the trusts of the will."

"But that will be a surrender, won't it?" "Oh dear, no. The court will review the facts and decide the case on its merits. The Calder Company will produce their proofsif they have any-and their supposed claim

will doubtless be urged by competent counsel. We shall, of course, represent Miss Hardy, and I have no doubt that, whatever may be the issue, the Vice-Chancellor will allow the costs out of the estate."

Balmaine did not say, albeit he thought, that Ferret was, perhaps, not the only solicitor in the world who liked to make a big bill of costs. Neither did he hint to Mr. Artful that the prospect of Vera losing her fortune was far from displeasing to him. In point of fact, he left the office in Lincoln's Inn Fields in a happier frame of mind than he had known for many a day. It was probably this serenity of spirit that suggested a happy thought -and happy thoughts are often more fruitful in results than hard work. As he turned into Fleet Street it occurred to him that it might not be amiss to call on the manager of the Day, tell him that he was bound for North Italy, and ask if he could do anything for the paper there. He by no means anticipated a favourable answer, but there was just the off-chance that it might be favourable; if it were not, he would be no worse off than before.

Mr. Nonpareil received him somewhat less cordially than on the occasion of his first visit. The manager was evidently both very much occupied and pre-occupied. Balmaine seeing this, explained his business in the fewest possible words.

Only by name."

"Indeed? Well, I will send in your name and tell him you will call this evening-shall we say nine o'clock? Good. The porter below will tell you how to proceed."

On this Balmaine made haste to take his leave, and when he got below addressed himself to the porter for an explanation of the manager's rather enigmatic instructions. Obtaining access to the editor of the Day seemed to be an undertaking of some difficulty. He was first of all to knock at a certain door in the court, pointed out by the porter, and ask if Mr. Manifold was in the office. Should the answer be in the affirmative, Balmaine must cross to a door on the opposite side of the court, press a button, the position of which the porter minutely described to him, and when the attendant came hand in his card. He would then, if

Mr. Manifold was able to see him, be favoured with an interview.

All this Alfred did. He knocked at one door, and after ascertaining that the manager was in, pressed the button of the other, whereupon it was slowly and cautiously opened and he was let inside.

"You want to see the editor?" said the attendant, and, without waiting for a reply, he led the way up a broad flight of stone steps, then along a corridor to a door, and throwing it open, told Alfred to be pleased to take a seat until the editor came, and then incontinently withdrew. It was a large, wellfurnished room, with sofas, easy-chairs, a long table, and a handsome bookcase-not in the least like the "den" of the traditional editor.

Alfred sat down in the twilight, feeling almost as if he were engaged in some conspiracy, and wondering what like was the man who forged the thunderbolts of the Day and wielded the power of a minister of state, how he would be received, and thinking what he should say. He had ample time for reflec tion. Mr. Manifold did not put in an appearance for a full half-hour, and when he did come the door opened so quietly, and he entered so softly, that before Balmaine be came aware of the editor's presence he was half-way across the room.

"How do you do, Mr. Balmaine?"

The great editor spoke as softly as he walked a man of middle age and middle height, with a high forehead, a pale, intellectual, weary face, bent shoulders, and grizzly hair. He looked to Alfred like an overburdened Atlas, a mentally strong man, perhaps, yet whose physical strength was not equal to his day.

"I'm glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Balmaine," he said. "Your letters from Geneva were very good. I am sorry for our sake that you have left. What can I do for you ?” Alfred told him of his proposed journey to Italy.

"Well, if you can find any good subjects, and send us a few letters, I will do my best to use them. Italy is always interesting, and I think the time is not far off when she will complete her unity by the redemption of Rome. France and Prussia are ready to fly at each other's throats, and when they do, the Temporal Power must come to an end." "You think there will be war then ?"

"I look upon a war between France and Prussia as inevitable. France cannot lose her supremacy in Europe without a struggle.

The unification of Germany would be fatal to her supremacy, and Napoleon will try at all hazards to hinder its consummation. Yes, sooner or later, and rather sooner than later, we shall have a European war."

As he spoke the editor rose from his chair, and Balmaine taking this as a hint that the interview was at an end, "made his adieux." He went away in good spirits. Something might come of the interview after all, for it would be strange indeed if he could not find matter for a few letters in North Italy, letters which might possibly lead to a permanent connection with the paper. Balmaine having a sanguine temperament could not help being hopeful, any more than he could help being unduly depressed under disappointment, for one extreme begets another. Circumstances in the present instance did not, perhaps, justify great expectations; but when, two or three days later, he dined with Mr. Wilkins, that gentleman made him a proposal which offered tangible grounds for encouragement. It was to take the editorship of a monthly commercial and financial magazine, "to be run," as Mr. Wilkins put it, in connection with a similar undertaking in the United States.

"But I know so little about commerce and finance," said Balmaine.

"You will soon learn," was the answer. "I can get you facts and information. You will only have to put them into shape. It will not take very much of your time."

The salary was to be two hundred a year, and, as the enterprise could not be launched for two or three months, there would be ample time before its inception for the contemplated journey to Italy. Alfred, of course, accepted the offer with both hands, and went away as much rejoiced as if he had come into a fortune as big as Vera's, or that which ought to be Vera's. With two hundred a year and his other earnings he would be almost as well off as if he had retained the editorship of the Helvetic News. Cora, whom he saw on the following day, though she congratulated him, did not seem as much surprised at his rise in life as he had expected. "Of course you will get on," she said, "better, I dare say, than if you had stayed at Geneva. But what a terrible thing this is about poor Vera and her fortune! I declare I am quite ashamed of Calder. Saintly Sam is a wretch and Ferret a villain. They cannot get the fortune themselves and they are trying to take it from Vera! But I do hope they won't succeed! You must find these witnesses, Alfred."

"What does Vera say about it?"

Not very much. She will be here soon and you can ask her yourself."

Cora, as Alfred had already discovered, was not in the most serene of tempers. Truth to say, she was greatly perplexed by the turn things were taking. For months she had been trying to make Vera and her cousin fall in love with each other, and now when the goal was in view and she had almost persuaded Alfred to propose, came this stroke of the Fortune Company; and though she hoped for the best, she could not conceal from herself that her friend was in imminent danger of being reduced to penury. Cora, though not mercenary, was essentially practical, and being blessed with a more than average share of common-sense, it seemed to her that in the changed condition of things it would be nothing less than a misfortune for Alfred and Vera to become engaged. How could her cousin, with the two hundred a year, of which he was so proud, and a few pounds more precariously earned, keep a wife? Yet with the proverbial perversity of lovers, they would probably regard the present as being an especially propitious time for an exchange of vows and the swearing of everlasting constancy. But what could she do, without laying herself open to the imputation of being actuated by unworthy motives, to avert this consummation? And was not she herself a poor girl, engaged to a poor man? Taking all this into consideration Cora came to the sensible conclusion to let matters take their course.

"I have meddled and muddled," she thought, "and, perhaps, if I meddle any more I shall only make the muddle worse. I'll leave it to Providence. People who do not possess the gift of foresight have no business to weave elaborate schemes for the benefit of their friends. They may not prove beneficial after all."

CHAPTER LXV.-BALMAINE PROPOSES.

THE Cousins were still discussing the iniquities of Saintly Sam and his familiar spirit, as Ferret was called at Calder, and the chances of the chancery suit, when Miss Hardy was announced. She did not appear to be much concerned, while, as for Alfred, his spirits seemed higher than ever. Abad sign, thought Cora. She knew her cousin's impulsive nature, especially in affairs of the heart; and remembering how easily declarations are made she feared the worst. As ill-luck would have it, too, Vera had hardly come in when Miss Balmaine was called out. No invented

excuse this time, but a call of real necessity. The cook had scalded her foot and fainted. There was a terrible hurry-skurry in the kitchen, and in the absence of Mrs. Maitland Cora was compelled to descend to the basement and take the part of mistress.

"Are you very much concerned at the turn things have taken, Miss Hardy ?" asked Balmaine rather vaguely when they were alone.

"About the poor cook, you mean? Yes, I am very sorry. I fear her foot is badly scalded."

"No, I don't mean about the poor cook. I mean about the Fortune Company, and the possibility that"

"The fortune will never be mine," said Vera, finishing the sentence. "Yes, for some reasons I am sorry. I shall have to abandon plans on which I had rather set my heart; and I must give up Reindeer-poor Reindeer! What will become of him, I wonder?" sighing.

Happy Reindeer, thought Alfred.

"But I am far more glad than sorry, Mr. Balmaine," she added with brightening eyes, and a look that confirmed her words.

"Glad to lose a fortune of two millions! How many there are who would give their very souls for a few years' enjoyment of such wealth."

"They are very poor creatures then. They can never have known what it is to be rich." "That is very probable, I think. They would like to know though. And if the wealthy did not find that their wealth gives them more pleasure than pain they would not cling to it so tenaciously."

"They have perhaps never known what it is to be poor," said Vera mock seriously.

"Perhaps not," returned Alfred with a smile. "All the same, it is not pleasant to be poor, or to feel that you are in danger of being poor. But, do you know, I think people are none the worse for having felt, once in their lives, the pinch of poverty. The experience enables them to sympathise all the more with those who are less well off than themselves. It makes them more generous too; for, if you notice, our greatest public benefactors are generally men who have risen, and who some time or other have known what it is to be poor. If you hear of anybody giving or bequeathing a large sum of money for the promotion of learning or the alleviation of poverty it is almost sure to be a self-made man, hardly ever a great noble or wealthy squire. The millionaire pill-maker who died the other day is said to have given

and left more than half a million for charitable purposes; but the banker-peer who died at the same time, and was worth six millions, did not leave a pound of it for any higher object than the aggrandisement of his family."

"I don't much admire pill-makers," said Vera, "but I honour that man far more than the peer. The peer was an egotistical wretch!"

"I would not say that. He was selfish certainly, but he acted according to his lights. He had never gone through a course of poverty. I don't mean penury. And you, Miss Hardy, if you had been all your life cradled in luxury and brought up as a great heiress, would not have looked upon your fortune as a responsibility too heavy to be borne."

"Thank Heaven, I was not. I would rather be a Vaudois milkmaid than a great heiress."

"There, I think, you are wrong. For a great heiress may, if she likes, become a milkmaid, but a milkmaid cannot very well become a great heiress. The one has a choice of destinies which the other does not possess. I am not sure either that the lot even of a Swiss milkmaid is altogether to be desired. In summer time and fine weather it is all very well-poetic, romantic, and healthybut in winter, I should think, the calling has its drawbacks. And, I fancy, milkmaids have not much opportunity for the cultivation of literature and art, and you love literature and art, Miss Hardy."

"How practical you are, Mr. Balmaine. But you misunderstand me. I meant that I would rather be brought up as a Vaudois milkmaid than as great heiresses are generally brought up. You speak of literature and art. Well, I have met at the Leytons some girls who are said to be very rich, and I am sure they have fewer ideas than any milkmaid in our commune."

"And what arrangement could be more admirable ?" returned Alfred with assumed gravity. "Dame Fortune is much less capricious with her gifts than we sometimes give her credit for being. She gives Swiss milkmaids ideas and idealess English girls money. is only rarely, as in your case, that she bestows on the same fortunate maiden both money and ideas."

It

"You are in a merry humour, I think, Mr. Balmaine. Fortune is capricious whatever you may say. And I'm not the exception you would make me. You are pleased to say I have ideas, but I have not the money that is as good as gone."