ROBERT MOODY was at this time nearly forty years of age. He was ashy, quiet, dark person, with a pale, closely-shav en face,agreeably animated by large black eyes, set deep in their orbits.His mouth was perhaps his best feature; he had firm, well-shapedlips, which softened on rare occasions into a particularlywinning smile. The whole look of the man, in spite of hishabitual reserve, declared him to be eminently trustworthy. Hisposition in Lady Lydiard's household was in no sense of themenial sort. He acted as her almoner and secretary as well as hersteward--distributed her charities, wrote her letters onbusiness, paid her bills, engaged her servants, stocked herwine-cellar, was authorized to borrow books from her library, andwas served with his meals in his own room. His parentage gave himclaims to these special favors; he was by birth entitled to rankas a gentleman. His father had failed at a time of commercialpanic as a country banker, had paid a good dividend, and had diedin exile abroad a broken-hearted man. Robert had tried to holdhis place in the world, but adverse fortune kept him down.Undeserved disaster followed him from one employment to another,until he abandoned the struggle, bade a last farewell to thepride of other days, and accepted the position considerately anddelicately offered to him in Lady Lydiard's house. He had now nonear relations living, and he had never made many friends. In theintervals of occupation he led a lonely life in his little room.It was a matter of secret wonder among the women in the servants'hall, considering his personal advantages and the opportunitieswhich must surely have been thrown in his way, that he had nevertempted fortune in the character of a married man. Robert Moodyentered into no explanations on that subject. In his own sad andquiet way he continued to lead his own sad and quiet life. Thewomen all failing, from the handsome housekeeper downward, tomake the smallest impression on him, consoled themselves byprophetic visions of his future relations with the sex, andpredicted vindictively that "his time would come."

"Well," said Lady Lydiard, "and what have you done?"

"Your Ladyship seemed to be anxious about the dog," Moodyanswered, in the low tone which was habitual to him. "I wentfirst to the veterinary surgeon. He had been called away into thecountry; and--"

Lady Lydiard waved away the conclusion of the sentence with herhand. "Never mind the surgeon. We must find somebody else. Wheredid you go next?"

"To your Ladyship"s lawyer. Mr. Troy wished me to say that hewill have the honor of waiting on you--"

"Pass over the lawyer, Moody. I want to know about the painter'swidow. Is it true that Mrs. Tollmidge and her family are left inhelpless poverty?"

"Not quite true, my Lady. I have seen the clergyman of theparish, who takes an interest in the case--"

Lady Lydiard interrupted her steward for the third time. "Did youmention my name?" she asked sharply.

"Certainly not, my Lady. I followed my instructions, anddescribed you as a benevolent person in search of cases of realdistress. It is quite true that Mr. Tollmidge has died, leavingnothing to his family. But the widow has a little income ofseventy pounds in her own right."

"Is that enough to live on, Moody?" her Ladyship asked.

"Enough, in this case, for the widow and her daughter," Moodyanswered. "The difficulty is to pay the few debts left standing,and to start the two sons in life. They are reported to be steadylads; and the family is much respected in the neighborhood. Theclergyman proposes to get a few influential names to begin with,and to start a subscription."

"No subscription!" protested Lady Lydiard. "Mr. Tollmidge wasLord Lydiard's cousin; and Mrs. Tollmidge is related to hisLordship by marriage. It would be degrading to my husband'smemory to have the begging-box sent round for his relations, nomatter how distant they may be. Cousins!" exclaimed her Ladyship,suddenly descending from the lofty ranges of sentiment to thelow. "I hate the very name of them! A person who is near enoughto me to be my relation and far enough off from me to be mysweetheart, is a double-faced sort of person that I don't like.Let's get back to the widow and her sons. How much do they want?"

"A subscription of five hundred pounds, my Lady, would providefor everything--if it could only be collected."

"It _shall_ be collected, Moody! I will pay the subscription outof my own purse." Having asserted herself in those noble terms,she spoilt the effect of her own outburst of generosity bydropping to the sordid view of the subject in her next sentence."Five hundred pounds is a good bit of money, though; isn't it,Moody?"

"It is, indeed, my Lady." Rich and generous as he knew hismistress to be, her proposal to pay the whole subscription tookthe steward by surprise. Lady Lydiard's quick perceptioninstantly detected what was passing in his mind.

"You don't quite understand my position in this matter," shesaid. "When I read the newspaper notice of Mr. Tollmidge's death,I searched among his Lordship's papers to see if they really wererelated. I discovered some letters from Mr. Tollmidge, whichshowed me that he and Lord Lydiard were cousins. One of thoseletters contains some very painful statements, reflecting mostuntruly and unjustly on my conduct; lies, in short," her Ladyshipburst out, losing her dignity, as usual. "Lies, Moody, for whichMr. Tollmidge deserved to be horsewhipped. I would have done itmyself if his Lordship had told me at the time. No matter; it'suseless to dwell on the thing now," she continued, ascendingagain to the forms of expression which became a lady of rank."This unhappy man has done me a gross injustice; my motives maybe seriously misjudged, if I appear personally in communicatingwith his family. If I relieve them anonymously in their presenttrouble, I spare them the exposure of a public subscription, andI do what I believe his Lordship would have done himself if hehad lived. My desk is on the other table. Bring it here, Moody;and let me return good for evil, while I'm in the humor for it!"

Moody obeyed in silence. Lady Lydiard wrote a check.

"Take that to the banker's, and bring back a five-hundred poundnote," she said. "I'll inclose it to the clergyman as coming from'an unknown friend.' And be quick about it. I am only a falliblemortal, Moody. Don't leave me time enough to take the stingy viewof five hundred pounds."

Moody went out with the check. No delay was to be apprehended inobtaining the money; the banking-house was hard by, in St.James's Street. Left alone, Lady Lydiard decided on occupying hermind in the generous direction by composing her anonymous letterto the clergyman. She had just taken a sheet of note-paper fromher desk, when a servant appeared at the door announcing avisitor--

"Mr. Felix Sweetsir!"