of view of his descendants in general, and these
dear Delavoyes in particular. Rather than hurt their feelings, Mr.
Gillon, I need hardly tell you I'd destroy my story in a minute."

"That would be a thousand pities," said I, honestly thinking of her
wasted time.

"I'm not so sure," said Miss Julia, doubtfully. "I sometimes think, when
I read the newspapers, that there are bad people enough in the world
without digging up more from their graves. Yet at other times I don't
feel as if I were doing that either. It's more as though this wicked old
wretch had come to life of his own accord and insisted on being written
about. I seem to feel him almost at my elbow, forcing me to write down I
don't know what."

"But that sounds like inspiration!" I exclaimed, impressed by the good
faith patent in the tired, ingenuous, serio-comic face.

"I don't know what it is," replied Miss Julia, "or whether I'm writing
sense or nonsense. I never like to look next day. I only know that at
the time I quite frighten myself and--make as big a fool of myself as
though I were in my poor heroine's shoes--which is so absurd!" She
laughed uneasily, her colour slightly heightened. "But I only meant to
ask you, Mr. Gillon, whether you honestly and truly think that the
Delavoyes won't mind? You see, he really was their ancestor, and I do
make him a most odious creature."

"But I don't suppose you give his real name?"

"Oh, dear, no. That would never do. I call him the Duke of Doehampton,
and the story is called 'His Graceless Grace.' Isn't it a good title,
Mr. Gillon?"

I lied like a man, but was still honest enough to add that I thought it
even better as a disguise. "I feel sure, Miss Brabazon, that you are
worrying yourself unnecessarily," I took it upon myself to assert; but
indeed her title alone would have reassured me, had I for a moment
shared her conscientious qualms.

"I am so glad you think so," said Miss Julia, visibly relieved. "Still,
I shall not offer the story anywhere until Mr. Delavoye has seen or
heard every word of it."

"I thought it was for your own _Parish Magazine_?"

Miss Julia at last obliged me with her most facetious and most
confidential smile.

"I am not tied down to the _Parish Magazine_," said she. "There are
higher fields. I am not certain that 'His Graceless Grace' is altogether
suited to the young--the young parishioner, Mr. Gillon! I must read it
over and see. And--yes--I shall invite Mr. Delavoye to co