e.

And the boy had been bred to no profession--indeed his grandmother
secretly doubted his ability to pursue one--and she had been only too
glad of the excuse to have him as her companion at Claymount. He had a
pittance of his own, derived from his parents who were both dead,--but
he had nothing further to look to, as his uncle, who in the course of
time would succeed to the estate, openly flouted him for a "loafer," and
made no secret of his opinion that the money spent on his hunters and
keepers would have been better bestowed upon almost anything else.

What then was to become of Val--Val, who was the apple of her eye, whose
very childishness and helplessness were dear to her, whose beauty of
face and form--stop, she had it, she laughed as she told herself she had
it. And how often she strained those dim old eyes of hers to see more
clearly when her darling's step was heard, and how fondly they rested on
the approaching figure and strove to appraise at its exact value the
curiously beautiful face, no one but herself knew.

It was a face without a soul--and she was pathetically aware of this,
but what then? Val would make a good husband--he would certainly make a
good husband. Husbands were not required to be clever; and it was quite
on the cards that even an intelligent girl might fall in love with a man
who had only a kind heart and an amiable disposition to recommend him,
provided his exterior were to her fancy.

But of course the girl must be rich; and now we come to the crux of the
whole little scene above narrated--Leonore Stubbs, the wealthy young
widow, with no ties, no drawbacks, and not too much discrimination (or
she could not have married as she did in the first instance), was the
very first person to solve the problem. In her own mind Mrs. Purcell
decided that her grandson should call at Boldero Abbey the very first
moment that decency permitted.

There is no need to multiply instances, it will now be perceived that in
no quarter was the real secret of the unfortunate Leonore's return to
the home of her childhood so much as suspected.

She was a pauper--but she was received as a princess. She had hardly a
penny of her own--but she was marked down as a benefactress. She was
bereft, denuded, bewildered, humiliated--but she was hailed with acclaim
by the shrewdest woman in the neighbourhood on the look-out for an
heiress.

CHAPTER IV.

A DULL BREAKFAST-TABLE.

To her surprise, Leonore sle