poverty and powerful
enemies,--almost alone,--taking comfort in her happiest moments in
the strength and goodness of her old friend Thomas Thwaite. She now
found that those old days had been happier than these later days.
Her girl had been with her and had been,--or had at any rate seemed
to be,--true to her. She had something then to hope, something to
expect, some happiness of glory to which she could look forward.
But now she was beginning to learn,--nay had already learned, that
there was nothing for her to expect. Her rank was allowed to her.
She no longer suffered from want of money. Her cause was about to
triumph,--as the lawyers on both sides had seemed to say. But in
what respect would the triumph be sweet to her? Even should her girl
become the Countess Lovel, she would not be the less isolated. None
of the Lovels wanted her society. She had banished her daughter to
Bedford Square, and the only effect of the banishment was that her
daughter was less miserable in Bedford Square than she would have
been with her mother in Keppel Street.

She did not dare to act without advice, and therefore she took the
letter to Mr. Goffe. Had it not been for a few words towards the end
of the letter she would have sent it to her daughter at once. But the
man had said that her girl would be vile indeed if she married the
Earl for the sake of becoming a countess, and the widow of the late
Earl did not like to put such doctrine into the hands of Lady Anna.
If she delivered the letter of course she would endeavour to dictate
the answer;--but her girl could be stubborn as her mother; and how
would it be with them if quite another letter should be written than
that which the Countess would have dictated?

Mr. Goffe read the letter and said that he would like to consider
it for a day. The letter was left with Mr. Goffe, and Mr. Goffe
consulted the Serjeant. The Serjeant took the letter home to Mrs.
Bluestone, and then another consultation was held. It found its
way to the very house in which the girl was living for whom it was
intended, but was not at last allowed to reach her hand. "It's a fine
manly letter," said the Serjeant.

"Then the less proper to give it to her," said Mrs. Bluestone, whose
heart was all softness towards Lady Anna, but as hard as a millstone
towards the tailor.

"If she does like this young lord the best, why shouldn't she tell
the man the truth?" said the Serjeant.

"Of course she likes the young lord