Halliday--you, who know Mr. Sheldon?"

"I am ready to hope anything."

"You think that Mr. Sheldon would let his stepdaughter marry a
penniless man?"

"I may not always be penniless. Besides, Mr. Sheldon has no actual
authority over Charlotte."

"But he has moral influence over her. She is very easily influenced."

"I am ready to hope even in spite of Mr. Sheldon's opposing influence.
You must not try to crush this one little floweret that has grown up in
a barren waste, Diana. It is my prison-flower."

Mrs. Sheldon came into the room as he said this. She was very cordial,
very eloquent upon the subject of her headache, and very much inclined
to go to the theatre, notwithstanding that ailment, when she heard that
Mr. Hawkehurst had been kind enough to bring her a box.

"Diana and I could go," she said, "if we can manage to be in time after
our six o'clock dinner. Mr. Sheldon does not care about theatres. All
the pieces tire him. He declares they are all stupid. But then, you
see, if one's mind is continually wandering, the cleverest piece must
seem stupid," Mrs. Sheldon added thoughtfully; "and my husband is so
very absent-minded."

After some further discussion about the theatres, Valentine bade the
ladies good afternoon.

"Won't you stop to see Mr. Sheldon?" asked Georgina; "he's in the
library with Captain Paget. You did not know that your papa was here,
did you, Diana, my dear? He came in with Mr. Sheldon an hour ago."

"I won't disturb Mr. Sheldon," said Valentine. "I will call again in a
few days."

He took leave of the two ladies, and went out into the hall. As he
emerged from the drawing-room, the door of the library was opened, and
he heard Philip Sheldon's voice within, saying,--

"--your accuracy with regard to the name of Meynell."

It was the close of a sentence; but the name struck immediately upon
Valentine's ear. Meynell!--the name which had for him so peculiar an
interest.

"Is it only a coincidence," he thought to himself, "or is Horatio Paget
on our track?"

And then he argued with himself that his ears might have deceived him,
and that the name he had heard might not have been Meynell, but only a
name of somewhat similar sound.

It was Captain Paget who had opened the door. He came into the hall and
recognised his _protege_. They left the house together, and the Captain
was especially gracious.

"We will dine together somewhere at the West-end, Val," he said; but,
to his surpr