On the following day Victor Carrington presented himself at Hilton House, and was received by Miss Brewer alone. She was pale, chilly, and ungracious, as usual, and the understanding which had been arrived at between Carrington and herself did not move her to the manifestation of the smallest additional cordiality in her reception of him.

“I have to thank you for your prompt compliance with my request, Miss Brewer,” said Victor.

She made no sound nor sign of encouragement, and he continued. “Since I saw you, another complication has arisen in this matter, which makes our game doubly safe and secure. In order to explain this complication thoroughly, I must ask you to let me put you through a kind of catechism. Have I your permission, Miss Brewer?”

“You may ask me any questions you please,” returned Miss Brewer, in a hard, cold, even voice; “and I will answer them as truthfully as I can.”

“Do you know anything of Douglas Dale’s family connections and antecedents?”

“I know that his mother was Sir Oswald Eversleigh’s sister, and that he and Lionel Dale, who was drowned on St. Stephen’s day, were left large incomes by their uncle, in addition to some inconsiderable family property which they inherited from their father, Mr. Melville Dale, who was a lawyer, and, I believe, a not very successful one.”

“Did you ever hear anything of the family history of this Mr. Melville Dale, the father of Lionel and Douglas?”

“I never heard more than his name, and the circumstance I have already mentioned.”

“Listen, then. Melville Dale had a sister, towards whom their father conceived undue and unjust partiality (according to the popular version) from their earliest childhood. This sister, Henrietta Dale, married, when very young, a country baronet of good fortune, one Sir George Verner, and thereby still further pleased her father, and secured his favour. Melville Dale, on the contrary, opposed the old gentleman in everything, and ultimately crowned the edifice of his offences by publishing a deistical treatise, which made a considerable sensation at the time of its appearance, and caused the author’s expulsion from Balliol, where he had already attained a bad eminence by numerous escapades of the Shelley order. This proceeding so incensed his father that he made a will, in the heat of his anger, by which he disinherited Melville Dale, and left the whole of his fortune to his daughter, Lady Verner. If he repented this summary and vindictive proceeding, neither I nor any one else can tell. The disinherited son reformed his life very soon after the breach between himself and his father, and was lucky enough to win the affections of Sir Oswald Eversleigh’s sister. But he was too proud to ask for his father’s forgiveness, and the father died a year after Douglas Dale’s birth — never having seen Mrs. Dale or his grandchildren. At the time of her father’s death, Lady Verner had no children, and she was, I believe, disposed to treat her brother very generously; but he was an obstinate, headstrong man, and persisted in believing that she had purposely done him injury with his father. He would not see her. He refused to accept any favour at her hands, and a complete estrangement took place. The brother and sister never met again; and it was only through the medium of the newspapers that Lionel and Douglas Dale learned, some time after their father’s death (Melville Dale died young), that severe affliction had befallen their aunt, Lady Verner. The bitter and deadly breach between father and son, and between brother and sister, was destined never to be healed. Lionel and Douglas grew up knowing nothing of their father’s family, but treated always with persistent kindness by their uncle, Sir Oswald Eversleigh, who insisted upon their making Raynham Castle a second home.”

“Their cousin Reginald must have liked that, I fancy,” remarked Miss Brewer, in her coldest tone.

“He did, as you suppose,” said Carrington; “he hated the Dales, and I fancy they had but little intimacy with him. He was early taken up by Sir Oswald, and acknowledged and treated as his heir. You know, of course, how all that came to grief, and how Sir Oswald married a nobody, and left her the bulk of his fortune?”

“Yes, I have heard all that,” said Miss Brewer. “Sir Reginald did not spare us the details of the injustice Sir Oswald had done him, or the expression of his feelings regarding it. Sir Reginald is the most egotistical man I know.”

“Well, then, as you are in possession of the family relations so far, let me return to Lady Verner, of whom her nephews knew nothing during their father’s lifetime. She had lost her husband shortly after the birth of her only child, and continued to live at Naples, whither Sir George had been taken, in the vain hope of prolonging his life. A short time after Sir George Verner’s death, and while his child was almost an infant, Lady Verner’s villa was robbed, and the little girl, with her nurse, disappeared. The general theory was, that the nurse had connived at the robbery, and gone off with the thieves; and being, after the fashion of Italian nurses, extraordinarily fond of the child, had refused to be parted from her. Be that as it may, the nurse and child were never heard of again, and though the case was put into the hands of the cleverest of the police, in Paris and London, no discovery has ever been made. Lady Verner fell into a state of hopeless melancholy, in which she continued for many years, and during that period, of course, her wealth accumulated, and is now very great indeed. I see by your face, Miss Brewer, that you are growing impatient, and are disposed to wonder what the family history of the Dales, and the troubles of Lady Verner, have to do with Paulina Durski and our designs for her future. Bear with my explanation a little longer, and you will perceive the importance of the connection between them.”

Miss Brewer gave her shoulders a slight shrug, expressive of supreme resignation, and Victor continued.

“Lady Verner has now recovered, under the influence of time and medical skill, and has come to London with the avowed purpose of arranging the affairs of her large property. She has heard of Lionel Dale’s death, and, therefore, knows that there is a candidate the less in the field. Sir Reginald Eversleigh has obtained access to this lady, and he has carefully nipped in the bud certain symptoms of interest which she betrayed in the fate of Sir Oswald Eversleigh’s widow and orphan daughter. Lady Verner is an exceedingly proud woman, and you may suppose her maternal instincts are powerful, when the loss of her child caused her years of melancholy madness. My gifted friend speedily discovered these characteristics, and practised on them. Lady Verner was made aware that the widow of Sir Oswald Eversleigh was a person of low origin, and dubious reputation, and cared so little for her child that she had gone abroad, for an indefinite time, leaving the little girl at Raynham, in the care of servants. The result of this representation was, that Lady Verner felt and expressed extreme disgust, and considerable satisfaction that she had not committed herself to a course from which she must have receded, by opening any communication with Lady Eversleigh. One danger thus disposed of — and I must say I think Reginald did it well — he was very enthusiastic, he tells me, on the virtues of his uncle, and his inextinguishable regret for that benefactor of his youth.”

Miss Brewer’s cold smile, and glittering, baleful eye, attracted Carrington’s attention at this point.

“That shocks you, does it, Miss Brewer?” he asked.

“Shock me? Oh no! It rather interests me; there’s an eminence of baseness in it.”

“So there is,” said Carrington, with pleased assent, “especially to one who knows, as I do, how Reginald hated his uncle, living-how he hates his memory, dead. However, he did this, and did it well; but it was only half his task. Lady Verner would keep herself clear of Lady Eversleigh, but she must be kept clear of Douglas Dale.”

“Ha!” said Miss Brewer, with a slight change of attitude and expression, “I see now; she must be turned against him by means of Paulina — poor Paulina! She says she is fatal to him; she says he ought to fly from her. This looks still more like her being right.”

“It does, indeed, Miss Brewer,” said Carrington, gravely. “You are right. It was by means of Madame Durski that the trick was done; but neither you nor I— and I assure you I like your friend immensely — can afford to take objection to the manner of doing it. Lady Verner was made to understand that by extending her countenance to, or enriching Douglas Dale, she would only be giving additional security and eclat to a marriage scarcely less disgraceful than that which Sir Oswald Eversleigh had contracted. The device has been successful, so far. And now comes the third portion of Sir Reginald’s game — the substitution of himself in Lady Verner’s good graces for the nephew he has ousted. This is only fair, after all. Dale cut him out with his uncle — he means to cut Dale out with his aunt. You understand our programme now, Miss Brewer, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she replied, slowly, “but I don’t see why I should lend him any assistance. It would be more to my interest that Douglas Dale should inherit this lady’s fortune; the richer Paulina’s husband is, the better for me.”

“Unquestionably, my dear Miss Brewer,” said Carrington. “But Dale will not marry Paulina if Sir Reginald Eversleigh chooses to prevent it; and Douglas Dale will not give you five hundred pounds for any services whatever, because there are none which you can render him. I think you can see that pretty plainly, Miss Brewer. And you can also see, I presume, that, provided I get my money from Eversleigh, it is a manner of total indifference to me whether he gets Lady Verner’s money, or whether Dale gets it. The only means by which I can get my money is by detaching Sir Reginald from Paulina, and making him marry the ironmonger’s heiress. When that is done, and the money is paid, I am perfectly satisfied that Dale should get the fortune, and I think it very likely he will; but you must perceive that I cannot play my own game except by appearing to play Reginald’s.”

“Is Lady Verner likely to think the ironmonger’s heiress a good match for Sir Reginald Eversleigh?” Miss Brewer asked, in a coldly sarcastic tone.

“How is she to know anything of her origin?” returned Carrington, who was, however, disconcerted by the question. “She lives a most retired life; no one but Reginald has any access to her, and he can make her believe anything he likes.”

“That’s fortunate,” said Miss Brewer, drily; “pray proceed.”

“Well, then, you see these points as clearly as I do — the next thing to be done is to secure Paulina’s marriage with Douglas Dale.”

“I don’t think that needs much securing,” said Miss Brewer. “Judging from his manner before he left town, and from the tone of his letter, I should think very little encouragement from her would ensure a proposal of marriage from him.”

“And will she give him that encouragement?”

“Undoubtedly — I fully believe she will marry Douglas Dale. She has certainly learned to despise Sir Reginald Eversleigh, and I think Mr. Dale has caught her heart in the rebound.”

“Have you attended to my instructions about impressing her money difficulties on her mind — have you made things as bad as possible?”

“Certainly,” answered Miss Brewer. “Only this morning I have sent into her room several pressing and impertinent letters from her tradespeople, and I put some accounts of the most dispiriting character before her last night. She is in dreadfully low spirits.”

“So much the better! If we can but induce her to borrow money from Dale, all will be well; he will take that as a convincing proof of regard and confidence, and will propose to her at once. I am sure of it. So sure, that I will pass that matter by, and take it for granted. And now — if this comes to pass, and Douglas Dale is here as the accepted lover of Paulina, I must have c............