bbie had asked her to marry him when he
was twenty-one, and again when she was twenty-one, when George went to
Oxford, when her father went into bankruptcy, and when Hamlyn's Purlieu
was sold. He had urged his own father to buy it, when it was known that
a sale was inevitable, hoping that the possession of it would incline
Lucy's heart towards him; but the first baronet was too keen a man of
business to make an unprofitable investment for sentimental reasons.
Bobbie had proposed for the last time when he succeeded to the baronetcy
and a large fortune. Lucy recognised his goodness and the advantages of
the match, but she did not care for him. She felt, too, that she needed
a free hand to watch over her father and George. Even Mrs. Crowley's
suggestion that with her guidance Robert Boulger might become a man of
consequence, did not move her. Bobbie, on the other hand, had set all
his heart on marrying his cousin. It was the supreme interest of his
life, and he hoped that his patience would eventually triumph over every
obstacle. He was willing to wait.

When Lucy's first alarm was stayed, it occurred to her that Bobbie had
come once more to ask her the eternal question, but the anxious look in
his eyes drove the idea away. His pleasant, boyish expression was
overcast with gravity; Mrs. Crowley flung herself in a chair and turned
her face away.

'I have something to tell you which is very terrible, Lucy,' he said.

The effort he made to speak was noticeable. His voice was strained by
the force with which he kept it steady.

'Would you like me to leave you?' asked Alec, who had accompanied Lucy
into the drawing-room.

She gave him a glance. It seemed to her that whatever it was, his
presence would help her to bear it.

'Do you wish to see me alone, Bobbie?'

'I've already told Dick and Mrs. Crowley.'

'What is it?' she asked.

Bobbie gave Dick an appealing look. It seemed too hard that he should
have to break the awful news to her. He had not the heart to give her so
much pain. And yet he had hurried down to the country so that he might
soften the blow by his words: he would not trust to the callous cruelty
of a telegram. Dick saw the agitation which made his good-humoured mouth
twitch with pain, and stepped forward.

'Your father has been arrested for fraud,' he said gravely.

For a moment no one spoke. The silence was intolerable to Mrs. Crowley,
and she inveighed inwardly against the British stolidity. She c