marriage, Caroline Waddington, our heroine, was the sole
offspring. Mr. Waddington's commercial enterprises had not caused
him to live in London, though he had been required to be there
frequently. Mr. Bertram had, therefore, seen more of him than of his
own daughter. The infant had been born in the house of the Bakers,
and there she was brought up. As an orphan of four years old, she had
come under the care of Mary Baker, and under her care she remained.
Miss Baker was therefore not in truth her aunt. What was their exact
relationship I leave as a calculation to those conversant with the
mysteries of genealogy. I believe myself that she was almost as
nearly connected with her lover.

When Mr. Waddington and his daughter were both dead, Mr. Bertram felt
himself to be altogether relieved from family ties. He was not yet
an old man, being then about fifty-five; but he was a very rich man.
It was of course considered that he would provide liberally for his
grandchild. But when asked to do so by Miss Baker, he had replied
that she was provided for; that he had enabled the child's father
to leave behind him four thousand pounds, which for a girl was a
provision sufficiently liberal; that he would not give rise to false
hopes that she would be his heiress; but that if his niece, Mary
Baker, would take the charge of her, he would allow an income for the
purpose. This he had done with sufficient liberality.

All that is mysterious has now, I believe, been unravelled, and we
may go back to our story. Of Mr. Pritchett, we should perhaps say a
word. He had been habituated in his sundry money dealings to look
on Miss Baker as his patron's niece, and had always called her as
such. Indeed, the connection had been so far back that he usually
styled her Miss Mary. But he did not know, nor--though he was very
suspicious on the matter--did he quite suspect what was the truth as
to Miss Waddington. She was niece to his patron's niece; he knew no
more than that, excepting, of course, that she was the daughter of
Mr. Waddington, and that she was mistress in her own right of four
thousand pounds.

Mr. Pritchett was very anxious about his patron's wealth. Here was
Mr. Bertram turned seventy years of age--Mr. Pritchett himself was
sixty-six--and no one knew who was to be his heir. As far as he, Mr.
Pritchett, was aware, he had no heir. Mr. George would naturally be
so--so thought Mr. Pritchett; and the old man's apparent anxiety
respecting