“Joy, joy, my dear child! Remember, I was the first to give you a hint.”
“Good morning,” said Elvira, with a little bend of her head, presenting to each the shapely tip of a gauntleted hand, but ignoring her uncle and aunt as far as was possible. “Is there anything that need detain me, Mr. Wakefield? I am just going out with Miss Evelyn and Lord Fordham, and I cannot keep them waiting.”
“Ah! it is you that will have to be waited for now, my sweet one,” began Mrs. Gould.
“Here is a note from Mrs. Brownlow,” said Mr. Wakefield, holding it to Elvira, who looked like anything but a sweet one. “I imagine it is to prepare you for the important disclosure I have to make.”
A hot colour mounted in the fair cheek. Elvira tore open the letter and read—
“MY DEAR CHILD,—I can only ask your pardon for the unconscious wrong which I have so long been doing to you, and which shall be repaired as soon as the processes of the law render it possible for us to change places.
“Your ever loving,
“MOTHER CAREY.”
“What does it all mean?” cried the bewildered girl.
“It means,” said the lawyer, “that Mrs. Brownlow has discovered a will of the late Mr. Barnes more recent than that under which she inherited, naming you, Miss Elvira Menella, as the sole inheritrix.”