During that night the young lord was still thinking of his future conduct,—of what duty and honour demanded of him, and of the manner in which he might best make duty and honour consort with his interests. In all the emergencies of his short life he had hitherto had some one to advise him,—some elder friend whose counsel he might take even though he would seem to make little use of it when it was offered to him. He had always somewhat disdained aunt Julia, but nevertheless aunt Julia had been very useful to him. In latter days, since the late Earl\'s death, when there came upon him, as the first of his troubles, the necessity of setting aside that madman\'s will, Mr. Flick had been his chief counsellor; and yet in all his communications with Mr. Flick he had assumed to be his own guide and master. Now it seemed that he must in truth guide himself, but he knew not how to do it. Of one thing he felt certain. He must get away from Yoxham and hurry up to London.

It behoved him to keep his cousin\'s secret; but would he not be keeping it with a sanctity sufficiently strict if he imparted it to one sworn friend,—a friend who should be bound not to divulge it further without his consent? If so, the Solicitor-General should be his friend. An intimacy had grown up between the great lawyer and his noble client, not social in its nature, but still sufficiently close, as Lord Lovel thought, to admit of such confidence. He had begun to be aware that without assistance of this nature he would not know how to guide himself. Undoubtedly the wealth of the presumed heiress had become dearer to him,—had become at least more important to him,—since he had learned that it must probably be lost. Sir William Patterson was a gentleman as well as a lawyer;—one who had not simply risen to legal rank by diligence and intellect, but a gentleman born and bred, who had been at a public school, and had lived all his days with people of the right sort. Sir William was his legal adviser, and he would commit Lady Anna\'s secret to the keeping of Sir William.

There was a coach which started in those days from York at noon, reaching London early on the following day. He would go up by this coach, and would thus avoid the necessity of much further association with his family before he had decided what should be his conduct. But he must see his cousin before he went. He therefore sent a note to her before she had left her room on the following morning;—
 

    Dear Anna,

    I purpose starting for London in an hour or so, and wish to say one word to you before I go. Will you meet me at nine in the drawing-room? Do not mention my going to my uncle or aunts, as it will be better that I should tell them myself.

    Yours, L.
    

At ten minutes before nine Lady Anna was in the drawing-room waiting for him, and at ten minutes past nine he joined her.

"I beg your pardon for keeping you waiting." She gave him her hand, and said that it did not signify in the least. She was always early. "I find that I must go up to London at once," he said. To this she made no answer, though he seemed to expect some reply. "In the first place, I could not remain here in comfort after what you told me yesterday."

"I shall be sorry to drive you away. It is your home; and as I must go soon, had I not better go at once?"

"No;—that is, I think not. I shall go at any rate. I have told none of them what you told me yesterday."

"I am glad of that, Lord Lovel."

"It is for you to tell it,—if it must be told."

"I did tell your aunt Jane,—that you and I never can be as—you said you wished."

"I did wish it most heartily. You did not tell it—all."

"No;—not all."

"You astounded me so, that I could hardly speak to you as I should have spoken. I did not mean to be uncourteous."

"I did not think you uncourteous, Lord Lovel. I am sure you would not be uncourteous to me."

"But you astounded me. It is not that I think much of myself, or of my rank as belonging to me. I know that I have but little to be proud of. I am very poor,—and not clever like some young men who have not large fortunes, but who can become statesmen and all that. But I do think much of my order; I think much of being a gentleman,—and much of ladies being ladies. Do you understand me?"

"Oh, yes;—I understand you."

"If you are Lady Anna Lovel—"

"I am Lady Anna Lovel."

"I believe you are with all my heart. You speak like it, and look like it. You are fit for any position. Everything is in your favour. I do believe it. But if so—"

"Well, Lord Lovel;—if so?"

"Surely you would not choose to—to—to degrade your rank. That is the truth. If I be your cousin, and the head of your family, I have a right to speak as such. What you told me would be degradation."

She thought a moment, and then she replied to him,—"It would be no disgrace."

He too found himself compelled to think before he could speak again. "Do you think that you could like your associates if you were to be married to Mr. Thwaite?"

"I do not know who they would be. He would be my companion, and I like him. I love him dearly. There! you need not tell me, Lord Lovel. I know it all. He is not like you;—and I, when I had become his wife, should not be like your aunt Jane. I should never see people of that sort any more, I suppose. We should not live here in England at all,—so that I should escape the scorn of all my cousins. I know what I am doing, and why I am doing it;—and I do not think you ought to tempt me."

She knew at least that she was open to temptation. He could perceive that, and was thankful for it. "I do not wish to tempt you, but I would save you from unhappiness if I could. Such a marriage would be unnatural. I have not seen Mr. Thwaite."

"Then, my lord, you have not seen a most excellent man, who, next to my mother, is my best friend."

"But he cannot be a gentleman."

"I do not know;—but I do know that I can be his wife. Is that all, Lord Lovel?"

"Not quite all. I fear that this weary lawsuit will come back upon us in some shape. I cannot say whether I have the power to stop it if I would. I must in part be guided by others."

"I cannot do anything. If I could, I would not even ask for the money for myself."

"No, Lady Anna. You and I cannot decide it. I must again see my lawyer. I do not mean the attorney,—but Sir William Patterson, the Solicitor-General. May I tell him what you told me yesterday?"

"I cannot hinder you."

"But you can give me your permission. If he will promise me that it shall go no farther,—then may I tell him? I shall hardly know what to do unless he knows all that I know."

"Everybody will know soon."

"Nobody shall know from me,—but only he. Will you say that I may tell him?"

"Oh, yes."

"I am much indebted to you even for that. I cannot tell you now how much I hoped when I got up yesterday morning at Bolton Bridge that I should have to be indebted to you for making me the happiest man in England. You must forgive me if I say that I still hope at heart that this infatuation may be made to cease. And now, good-bye, Lady Anna."

"Good-bye, Lord Lovel."

She at once went to her room, and sent down her maid to say that she would not appear at prayers or at breakfast. She would not see him again before he went. How probable it was that her eyes had rested on his form for the last time! How beautiful he was, how full of ............