ear, kind Olive! All is well with me and with
my son; but he has done what I think is not exactly good for him, and it
somewhat troubles me. However, we will talk of this another time."

"More news do you want, Olive?" (Christal now sometimes called her so.)
"Well, then, Dame Fortune is in the giving mood. She has given your
favourite Mr. Lyle Derwent a fortune of L1000 a year, and a little
estate to match!"

"I am so glad! for his sake, good dear Lyle!"

"_Dear_ Lyle!" repeated Christal, turning round with a sparkle either of
pleasure or anger in her glittering eyes; but it was quenched before
it reached those of Olive. "Well, winning is one thing, deserving is
another!" she continued, merrily. "I could have picked out a dozen
worthy, excellent young men, who would have better merited the blessing
of a rich uncle, ay, and made a better use of his money too."

"Lyle would thank you if he knew."

"That he ought, and that he does, and that he shall do, every day of
his life!" cried Christal, lifting up her tall figure with a sudden
haughtiness, not the less real because she laughed the while; then with
one light bound she vanished from the room.

Olive, left alone with Mrs. Gwynne, would fain have taken her hands,
and said as she had oft done before. "Friend, tell me all that troubles
you--all that concerns you and _him._" But now a faint fear repelled
her. However, Harold's mother, understanding her looks, observed,

"You are anxious, my dear. Never was there such a faithful friend to me
and to my son! I wish you had been here a week ago, and then you might
have helped me to persuade him not to go away."

"He is gone, then, to America?"

"America!--who mentioned America?" said Mrs. Gwynne, sharply. "Has he
told you more than he told me?"

Olive, sorely repentant, tried to soothe the natural jealousy she had
aroused. "You know well Mr. Gwynne would be sure to tell his plans to
his mother; only I have heard him talk of liking America--of wishing to
go thither."

"He has not gone then. He has started with his friend Lord Arundale, to
travel all through Europe. It is a pity, I think, for one of his cloth,
and it shows a wandering and restless mind. I know not what has come
over my dear Harold."

"Was it a sudden journey?--is it long since he went?" said Olive,
shading her eyes from the fire-light.

"Only yesterday. I told him you were coming to-day; and he desired me to
say how grieved he was that he thus mis