ings waddle off to
the pond, she'll be in a fright, and think they'll all be drowned, and so
will the hen.'

But Humphrey scarcely heeded the child's chatter, he was earnestly looking
at Mary Gifford's face.

Surely there must be some fresh cause of trouble there, for he thought he
saw traces of recent tears.

Little Ambrose, finding his appeal to Humphrey took no effect, scampered
off to the poultry yard, Lucy following. She thought it would be wiser to
leave Humphrey to plead her cause, and persuade Mary that if his mother
would consent to her journey to London, she was better out of the way when
Mary raised objections to the fulfilment of her wishes.

'Is there any new cause of trouble, Mistress Gifford,' Humphrey asked.

'Nothing new--as you take the word.'

'Nought in which I can be of help?'

Mary hesitated, and Humphrey said,--

'The wrangles and quarrels yonder are on the increase. Is that so?' he
asked. 'I heard loud voices when I came up to the house a short time ago,
and Lucy rushed out with flaming cheeks and sparkling eyes.'

'Poor child,' Mary said, 'I will not say there is not blame on both sides,
but the life we lead yonder becomes more and more hard. It is ill training
for my little son to see angry passions raging, and to hear loud
reproaches.'

'I know it! I know it!' Humphrey exclaimed. 'End it, Mary--end it for ever,
and come and bless me with your love.'

'Nay, Humphrey, do not urge me to do what is impossible. It cannot be.'

Humphrey Ratcliffe turned away with an impatient gesture, saying,--

'I see no glory in self-martyrdom. I offer you a home, and I swear to
protect you from all evil, and keep your boy from evil, train him to be a
noble gentleman, and, forsooth, you turn away and will have none of me.'

'Dear friend,' Mary began in a low voice, 'trust me so far as to believe
that I have a reason--a good reason--for refusing what would be, I doubt
not, a haven of calm after the troubled waters of my life. Trust me, kind
Master Ratcliffe, nor think ill of me. I pray you.'

'Ill of you! nay, Mary, you know no saint in heaven is ever more devoutly
worshipped than I worship you.' But, seeing her distress as he said these
words, he went on,--'I will wait, I will bide my time, and, meanwhile,
serve you in all ways I can. Here is this child, your young sister, chafing
against the life she leads here. I will do my best to persuade my mother to
take her in her company to London for the