d, and see that the money is all right for the bills. As far as
they go, let him have his plunder."

"And if she won't take you, at last, Grey? Upon my word, I don't
think she ever will. My belief is she'll never get married. She'll
never do anything like any other woman."

"The money won't be missed by me if I never get married," said Grey,
with a smile. "If she does marry me, of course I shall make her pay
me."

"No, by George! that won't do," said Vavasor. "If she were your
daughter you'd know that she could not take a man's money in that
way."

"And I know it now, though she is not my daughter. I was only joking.
As soon as I am certain,--finally certain,--that she can never become
my wife, I will take back my money. You need not be afraid. The
nature of the arrangement we have made shall then be explained to
her."

In this way it was settled; and on the following morning the father
informed the daughter that he had done her bidding, and that the
money would be placed to her credit at the bankers' before the bills
came due. On that Saturday, the day which her cousin had named in his
letter, she trudged down to Drummonds', and was informed by a very
courteous senior clerk in that establishment, that due preparation
for the bills had been made.

So far, I think we may say that Mr George Vavasor was not
unfortunate.

CHAPTER LXII

Going Abroad

One morning, early in May, a full week before Alice's visit to the
bankers' at Charing Cross, a servant in grand livery, six feet high,
got out of a cab at the door in Queen Anne Street, and sent up a
note for Miss Vavasor, declaring that he would wait in the cab for
her answer. He had come from lady Glencora, and had been specially
ordered to go in a cab and come back in a cab, and make himself as
like a Mercury, with wings to his feet, as may be possible to a
London footman. Mr Palliser had arranged his plans with his wife that
morning,--or, I should more correctly say, had given her his orders,
and she, in consequence, had sent away her Mercury in hot pressing
haste to Queen Anne Street. "Do come;--instantly if you can," the
note said. "I have so much to tell you, and so much to ask of you. If
you can't come, when shall I find you, and where?" Alice sent back a
note, saying that she would be in Park Lane as soon as she could put
on her bonnet and walk down; and then the Mercury went home in his
cab.

Alice found her friend in the small breakfast-room u