Between four and five in the afternoon — when the women of the Western regions are in their carriages, and the men are at their clubs — London presents few places more conveniently adapted for purposes of private talk than the solitary¹ garden inclosure of a square.

On the day when Richard Turlington paid his visit to Muswell Hill, two ladies (with a secret between them) unlocked the gate of the railed garden in Berkeley Square. They shut the gate after entering the inclosure, but carefully forbore to lock it as well, and carefully restricted their walk to the westward² side of the garden. One of them was Natalie Graybrooke. The other was Mrs. Sancroft’s eldest³ daughter. A certain temporary interest attached, in the estimation of society, to this young lady. She had sold well in the marriage market. In other words, she had recently been raised to the position of Lord Winwood’s second wife; his lordship conferring on the bride not only the honors of the peerage, but the additional distinction of being stepmother to his three single daughters, all older than herself. In person, Lady Winwood was little and fair. In character, she was dashing and resolute⁴ — a complete contrast to Natalie, and (on that very account) Natalie’s bosom⁵ friend.

“My dear, one ambitious marriage in the family is quite enough! I have made up my mind that you shall marry the man you love. Don’t tell me your courage is failing you — the excuse is contemptible⁶; I decline to receive it. Natalie! the men have a phrase which exactly describes your character. You want back-bone!”

The bonnet⁷ of the lady who expressed herself in these peremptory⁸ terms barely reached the height of Natalie’s shoulder. Natalie might have blown the little airy, light-haired, unsubstantial creature over the railings of the garden if she had taken a good long breath and stooped low enough. But who ever met with a tall woman who had a will of her own? Natalie’s languid brown eyes looked softly down in submissive attention from an

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