"I have seen him and spoken with him, sir, but have not yet asked his acceptance of the trust."

"Shall I be deemed indiscreet if I inquire his name?"

"By no means, sir. He is a gentleman of well-known character and repute, and he is called--Mr. Stocmar."

"Surely, madam, you cannot mean me?" cried he, with a start.

"No other, sir. Had I the whole range of mankind to choose from, you would be the man; you embrace within yourself all the conditions the project requires; you possess all the special knowledge of the subject; you are a man of the world fully competent to decide what should be done, and how; you have the character of being one no stranger to generous motives, and you can combine a noble action with, of course, a very inadequate but still some personal advantage. This young lady will, in short, be yours; and if her successes can be inferred from her abilities, the bribe is not despicable."

"Let us be explicit and clear," said Stocmar, drawing his chair closer to her, and talking in a dry, businesslike tone. "You mean to constitute me as the sole guide and director of this young lady, with full power to direct her studies, and, so to say, arbitrate for her future in life."

"Exactly," was the calm reply.

"And what am I to give in return, madam? What is to be the price of such an unlooked-for benefit?"

"Secrecy, sir,--inviolable secrecy,--your solemnly sworn pledge that the compact between us will never be divulged to any, even your dearest friend. When Clara leaves me, you will bind yourself that she is never to be traced to me; that no clew shall ever be found to connect us one with the other. With another name who is to know her?"

Stocmar gazed steadfastly at her. Was it that in a moment of forgetfulness she had suffered herself to speak too frankly, for her features had now assumed a look of almost sternness, the very opposite to their expression hitherto.

"And can you part with your niece so easily as this, madam?" asked he.

"She is not my niece, sir," broke she in, with impetuosity; "we are on honor here, and so I tell you she is nothing--less than nothing--to me. An unhappy event--a terrible calamity--bound up our lot for years together. It is a compact we are each weary of, and I have long told her that I only await the arrival of her guardian to relieve myself of a charge which brings no pleasure to either of us."

"You have given me a right to be very candid with you, madam," said Stocmar. "May I adventure so far as to ask what necessity there can possibly exist for such a separation as this you now contemplate?"

"You are evidently resolved, sir, to avail yourself of your privilege,"

said she, with a slight irritation of manner; "but when people incur a debt, they must compound for being dunned. You desire to know why I wish to part with this girl? I will tell you. I mean to cutoff all connection with the past; and she belongs to it. I mean to carry with me no memories of _that_ time; and she is one of them. I mean to disassociate myself from whatever might suggest a gloomy retrospect; and this her presence does continually. Perhaps, too, I have other plans,--plans so personal that your good breeding and good taste would not permit you to penetrate."

Though the sarcasm in which these last words were uttered was of the faintest, Stocmar felt it, and blushed slightly as he said: "You do me but justice, madam. I would not presume so far! Now, as to the question itself," said he, after a pause, "it is one requiring some time for thought and reflection."

"Which is what it does not admit of, sir," broke she in. "It was on Mr. Trover's assurance that you were one of those who at once can trust themselves to say 'I will,' or 'I will not,' that I determined to see you. If the suddenness of the demand be the occasion of any momentary inconvenience as to the expense, I ought to mention that she is entitled to a few hundred pounds,--less, I think, than five,--which, of course, could be forthcoming."

"A small consideration, certainly, madam," said he, bowing, "but not to be overlooked." He arose and walked the room, as though deep in thought; at last, halting before her chair, and fixing a steady but not disrespectful gaze on her, he said, "I have but one difficulty in this affair, madam, but yet it is one which I know not how to surmount."

"State it, sir," said she, calmly.

"It is this, madam: in the most unhappy newness of our acquaintance I am ignorant of many things which, however anxious to know, I have no distinct right to ask, so that I stand between the perils of my ignorance and the greater perils of possible presumption."

"I declare to you frankly, sir, I cannot guess to what you allude. If I only surmised what these matters were, I might possibly anticipate your desire to hear them."

"May I dare, then, to be more explicit?" asked he, half timidly.

"It is for you, sir, to decide upon that," said she, with some haughtiness.

"Well, madam," said he, boldly, "I want to know are you a widow?"

"Yes, sir," said she, with a calm composure.

"Am I, then, to believe that you can act free and uncontrolled, without fear of any dictation or interference from others?"

"Of course, sir."

"I mean, in short, madam, that none can gainsay any rights you exercise, or revoke any acts you execute?"

"Really, sir, I cannot fancy any other condition of existence, except it be to persons confined in an asylum."

"Nay, madam, you are wrong there," said he, smiling; "the life of every one is a network of obligations and ties, not a whit the less binding that they are not engrossed on parchment, and attested by three witnesses; liberty to do this, or to omit that, having always some penalty as a consequence."

"Oh, sir, spare me these beautiful moralizings, which only confuse my poor weak woman's head, and just say how they address themselves to me."

"Thus far, madam: that your right over the young lady cannot be contested nor shared?"

"Certainly not It is with me to decide for her."

"When, with your permission, I have seen her and spoken with her, if I find that no obstacle presents itself, why then, madam, I accept the charge--"

"And are her guardian," broke she in. "Remember, it is in that character that you assume your right over her. I need not tell a person of such tact as yours how necessary it will be to reply cautiously and guardedly to all inquiries, from whatever quarter coming, nor how prudent it will be to take her away at once from this."

"I will make arrangements this very day. I will telegraph to Milan at once," said he.

"Oh, dear!" sighed she, "what a moment of relief is this, after such a long, long period of care and anxiety!"

The great sense of relief implied in these words scarcely seemed to have extended itself to Mr. Stocmar, who walked up and down the room in a state of the deepest preoccupation.

"I wish sincerely," said he, half in soliloquy,--"I wish sincerely we had a little more time for deliberation here; that we were not so hurried; that, in short, we had leisure to examine this project more fully, and at length."

"My dear Mr. Stocmar," said she, blandly, looking up from the embroidery that she had just resumed, "life is not a very fascinating thing, taken at its best; but what a dreary affair it would be if one were to stop every instant and canvass every possible or impossible eventuality of the morrow. Do what we will, how plain is it that we can prejudge nothing, foresee nothing!"

"Reasonable precautions, madam, are surely permissible. I was just imagining to myself what my position would be if, when this young lady had developed great dramatic ability and every requirement for theatrical success, some relative--some fiftieth cousin if you like, but some one with claim of kindred--should step forward and demand her. What becomes of all my rights in such a case?"

"Let me put another issue, sir. Let me suppose somebody arriving at Dover or Folkestone, calling himself Charles Stuart, and averring that, as the legitimate descendant of that House, he was the rightful King of England. Do you really believe that her Majesty would immediately place Windsor at his disposal; or don't you sincerely suppose that the complicated question would be solved by the nearest policeman?"

"But she might marry, madam?"

"With her guardian's consent, of course," said she, with a demure coquetry of look and manner. "I trust she has been too well brought up, Mr. Stocmar, to make any risk of disobedience possible."

"Yes, yes," muttered he, half impatiently, "it's all very well to talk of guardians' consent; but so long as she can say, 'How did you become my guardian? What authority made you such? When, where, and by whom conferred?'--"

"My dear Mr. Stocmar, your ingenuity has conjured up an Equity lawyer instead of an artless girl not sixteen years of age! Do, pray, explain to me how, with a mind so prone to anticipate difficulties, and so rife to coin objections,--how, in the name of all that is wonderful, do you ever get through the immense mass of complicated affairs your theatrical life must present? If, before you engage a prima donna, you are obliged to trace her parentage through three generations back, to scrutinize her baptismal registry and her mother's marriage certificate, all I can say is that a prime minister's duties must be light holiday work compared with the cares of _your_ lot."

"My investigations are not carried exactly so far as you have depicted them," said he, good-humoredly; "but, surely, I 'm not too exacting if I say I should like some guarantee."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Stocmar," said she, interrupting him with a laugh, "but may I ask if you are married?"

"No, madam. I am a bachelor."

"You probably intend, however, at some future time to change your state.

I'm certain you don't mean to pass all your life in the egotism of celibacy."