d remain while you remained, sir."

"That at any rate is a good reason, as far as I am concerned. But we
go to Custins next week."

"There's a deal of shooting to be done at Gatherum," said the heir.

"You speak of it as if it were the business of your life,--on which
your bread depended."

"One can't expect game to be kept up if nobody goes to shoot it."

"Can't one? I didn't know. I should have thought that the less was
shot the more there would be to shoot; but I am ignorant in such
matters." Silverbridge then broke forth into a long explanation as to
coverts, gamekeepers, poachers, breeding, and the expectations of the
neighbourhood at large, in the middle of which he was interrupted by
the Duke. "I am afraid, my dear boy, that I am too old to learn. But
as it is so manifestly a duty, go and perform it like a man. Who will
go with you?"

"I will ask Mr. Finn to be one."

"He will be very hard upon you in the way of politics."

"I can answer him better than I can you, sir. Mr. Lupton said he
would come for a day or two. He'll stand to me."

After that his father stopped him as he was about to leave the room.
"One more word, Silverbridge. Do you remember what you were saying
when you walked down to the House with me from your club that night?"
Silverbridge remembered very well what he had said. He had undertaken
to ask Mabel Grex to be his wife, and had received his father's ready
approval to the proposition. But at this moment he was unwilling to
refer to that matter. "I have thought about it very much since that,"
said the Duke. "I may say that I have been thinking of it every day.
If there were anything to tell me, you would let me know;--would you
not?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then there is nothing to be told? I hope you have not changed your
mind."

Silverbridge paused a moment, trusting that he might be able to
escape the making of any answer;--but the Duke evidently intended to
have an answer. "It appeared to me, sir, that it did not seem to suit
her," said the hardly-driven young man. He could not now say that
Mabel had shown a disposition to reject his offer, because as they
had been sitting by the brookside at Killancodlem, even he, with all
his self-diffidence, had been forced to see what were her wishes.
Her confusion, and too evident despair when she heard of the offer
to the American girl, had plainly told her tale. He could not now
plead to his father that Mabel Grex would refuse his offer. But h