lived
within a stone's throw of her old home. Thus, with the visits of his
aunt and the Ashburnham's, Pauline would not be without society; besides
he would take her and Edith, whom he now looked upon as a sister, to
London during the height of the gay season, and this he thought would
not fail to please all parties.

Mrs. Barton was to give a farewell entertainment prior to her departure,
which should exceed anything that she had hitherto attempted, and the
evening of the day of Emily's marriage was fixed for the occasion.

It was somewhat late in the afternoon when Captain Carlton and Doctor
Draycott reached London, where the two friends and travelling companions
parted--Draycott for his father's house in Finsbury Pavement, and
Carlton for his hotel in Bond Street. His first idea was to go direct to
Berkly Square and inform Edith and the Bartons of the death of Sir
Ralph, and the declaration he had made concerning the will of the late
Sir Jasper; but while waiting in the coffee room of the hotel, looking
over the morning paper, he chanced to hear the following conversation
between two gentlemen standing at the bow window that looked out on the
street.

"And so the Bartons give their farewell spread this evening? Are you
going?"

"Well, I rather think so," was the other's reply. "It is a thousand
pities, however, to bury that lovely woman, Miss Effingham, in the
country. There is not her equal in town. If she only had a decent
allowance of cash or other property, she would have been sought for by a
Coronet, you may depend on that."

"But I heard," continued his friend, "that she was engaged to an Indian
Officer, who is expected in England shortly," and with these words they
passed out into the street.

On hearing this, Arthur determined to defer his visit a few hours
longer. There was a great rush of vehicles that night on the South side
of Berkly Square. The heavy family carriage, with its sleek horses,
driven at a sober pace by old John, the dashing curricle and smart
barouche, with the elegant private cab with its busy little Tiger in top
boots, whose single arm stops the thorough bred animal when his master
drops the reins.

"Is them 'ere hangels," enquired the butcher boy of his crony, Tom
Drops, the pot boy at the Crown and Sceptre, just round the corner, as
the two young ladies, who had acted in the character of bridesmaids in
the morning, stepped from their carriage on to the Indian matting which
had