he. "You look as though you would."

Decima turned to them. She had stood buried in a reverie, until the
light tone of Lionel aroused her from it. "_Which_ is real, Lionel? This
joking, or that you have lost Verner's Pride?"

"Both," he answered. "I am disinherited from Verner's Pride; better
perhaps that I should joke over it, than cry."

"What will mamma do? What will mamma do?" breathed Decima. "She has so
counted upon it. And what will you do, Lionel?"

"Decima!" came forth at this moment from the opposite room, in the
imperative voice of Lady Verner.

Decima turned in obedience to it, her step less light than usual. Lucy
addressed Lionel.

"One day at the rectory there came a gipsy woman, wanting to tell our
fortunes; she accosted us in the garden. Mr. Cust sent her away, and she
was angry, and told him his star was not in the ascendant. I think it
must be the case at present with your star, Mr. Verner."

Lionel smiled. "Yes, indeed."

"It is not only one thing that you are losing; it is more. First, that
pretty girl whom you loved; then, Mr. Verner; and now, Verner's Pride. I
wish I knew how to comfort you."

Lucy Tempest spoke with the most open simplicity, exactly as a sister
might have done. But the one allusion grated on Lionel's heart.

"You are very kind, Lucy. Good-bye. Tell Decima I shall see her some
time to-morrow."

Lucy Tempest looked after him from the window as he paced the inclosed
courtyard. "I cannot think how people can be unjust!" was her thought.
"If Verner's Pride was rightly his, why have they taken it from him?"

CHAPTER XX.

DRY WORK.

Certainly Lionel Verner's star was not in the ascendant--though Lucy
Tempest had used the words in jest. His love gone from him; his fortune
and position wrested from him; all become the adjuncts of one man,
Frederick Massingbird. Serenely, to outward appearance, as Lionel had
met the one blow, so did he now meet the other; and none, looking on his
calm bearing, could suspect what the loss was to him. But it is the
silent sorrow that eats into the heart; the loud grief does not tell
upon it.

An official search had been made; but no trace could be found of the
missing codicil. Lionel had not expected that it would be found. He
regarded it as a deed which had never had existence, and took up his
abode with his mother. The village could not believe it; the
neighbourhood resented it. People stood in groups to talk it over. It
did cert