to be so foolish,"
she answered, in a pleading tone.

"Or a certain place--that has been mentioned this morning--might have to
go without a mistress for good," he whispered.

What made him say it? It is true he spoke in a light, joking tone; but
the words were not justifiable, unless he meant to follow them up
seriously in future. He _did_ mean to do so when he spoke them.

Decima came in, sent by Lady Verner to demand Lionel's attendance.

"I am coming directly," replied Lionel. And Decima went back again.

"You ought to take Jan to live at Verner's Pride," said Lucy to him, the
words unconsciously proving that she had understood Lionel's allusion to
it. "If he were my brother, I would not let him be always slaving
himself at his profession."

"If he were your brother, Lucy, you would find that Jan would slave just
as he does now, in spite of you. Were Jan to come into Verner's Pride
to-morrow, through my death, I really believe he would let it, and live
on where he does, and doctor the parish to the end of time."

"Will Verner's Pride go to Jan after you?"

"That depends. It would, were I to die as I am now, a single man. But I
may have a wife and children some time, Lucy."

"So you may," said Lucy, filling up her tumbler from the jug of
lemonade. "Please to go into the drawing-room now, or Lady Verner will
be angry. Mary Elmsley's there, you know."

She gave him a saucy glance from her soft bright eyes. Lionel laughed.

"Who made you so wise about Mary Elmsley, young lady?"

"Lady Verner," was Lucy's answer, her voice subsiding into a
confidential tone. "She tells us all about it, me and Decima, when we
are sitting by the fire of an evening. _She_ is to be the mistress of
Verner's Pride."

"Oh, indeed," said Lionel. "She is, is she! Shall I tell you something,
Lucy?"

"Well?"

"If that mistress-ship--is there such a word?--ever comes to pass, I
shall not be the master of it."

Lucy looked pleased. "That is just what Decima says. She says it to Lady
Verner. I wish you would go to them."

"So I will. Good-bye. I shall not come in again. I have a hundred and
one things to do this afternoon."

He took her hand and held it. She, ever courteous of manner, simple
though she was, rose and stood before him to say her adieu, her eyes
raised to his, her pretty face upturned.

Lionel gazed down upon it, and, as he had forgotten himself once before,
so he now forgot himself again. He clasped it to him wit