no use."

"I must press it," replied Lady Verner. "I cannot allow you to throw
away your future prospects in this childish manner. How should I answer
for it to Colonel Tempest?"

She swept out of the room as she concluded, and Lucy, in an
uncontrollable fit of emotion, threw herself on the bosom of Decima, and
sobbed there. Decima hushed her to her soothingly, stroking her hair
from her forehead with a fond gesture.

"What is it that has grieved you lately, Lucy?" she gently asked. "I am
sure you have been grieving. I have watched you. Gay as you appear to
have been, it is a false gaiety, seen only by fits and starts."

Lucy moved her face from the view of Decima. "Oh, Decima! if I could but
go back to papa!" was all she murmured. "If I could but go away, and be
with papa!"

This little episode had taken place the day that Lionel Verner and his
wife returned. On the following morning Lady Verner renewed the contest
with Lucy. And they were deep in it--at least my lady was, for Lucy's
chief part was only a deprecatory silence, when Lionel arrived at
Deerham Court, to pay that visit to his mother which you have heard of.

"I insist upon it, Lucy, that you recall your unqualified denial," Lady
Verner was saying. "If you will not accept Lord Garle immediately, at
any rate take time for consideration. I will inform Lord Garle that you
do it by my wish."

"I cannot," replied Lucy in a firm, almost a vehement tone. "I--you must
not be angry with me, Lady Verner--indeed, I beg your pardon for saying
it--but I will not."

"How dare you, Lucy--"

Her ladyship stopped at the sudden opening of the door, turning angrily
to see what caused the interruption. Her servant appeared.

"Mr. Verner, my lady."

How handsome he looked as he came forward! Tall, noble, commanding.
Never more so; never so much so in Lucy's sight. Poor Lucy's heart was
in her mouth, as the saying runs, and her pulses quickened to a pang.
She did not know of his return.

He bent to kiss his mother. He turned and shook hands with Lucy. He
looked gay, animated, happy. A joyous bridegroom, beyond doubt.

"So you have reached home, Lionel?" said Lady Verner.

"At ten last night. How well you are looking, mother mine!"

"I am flushed just now," was the reply of Lady Verner, her accent a
somewhat sharp one from the remembrance of the vexation which had given
her the flush. "How is Paris looking? Have you enjoyed yourself?"

"Paris is looking hot and