your Sophy might forfeit the hateful claim to be the sole scion on his
ancient tree; but it is precisely by those losses that Lionel Haughton
might gain the bride he covets; and if this girl prove to be what these
Loselys affirm, that very marriage, which is now so repugnant to Darrell,
ought to insure his blessing. Were he himself to marry again--had he
rightful representatives and heirs in his own sons--he should rejoice in
the nuptials that secured to his daughter's child so honourable a name
and so tender a protector. And as for inheritance, you have not been
reared to expect it; you have never counted on it. You would receive a
fortune sufficiently ample to restore your ancestral station; your career
will add honours to fortune. Yes, yes; that is the sole way out of all
these difficulties. Darrell must marry again; Lady Montfort must be his
wife. Lionel shall be free to choose her whom Lady Montfort approves--be
friends--no matter what her birth; and I--I--Alban Morley-shall have an
arm-chair by two smiling hearths."

At this moment there was heard a violent ring at the bell, a loud knock
at the street door; and presently, following close on the servant, and
pushing him aside as he asked what name to announce, a woman, severely
dressed in irongrey, with a strongly-marked and haggard countenance,
hurried into the room, and, striding right up to Alban Morley, as he rose
from his seat, grasped his arm, and whispered into his ear, "Lose not a
minute--come with me instantly--as you value the safety, perhaps the life
of Guy Darrell!"

"Guy Darrell!" exclaimed Lionel, overhearing her, despite the undertones
of her voice.

"Who are you?" she said, turning fiercely; "are you one of his family?"