e might not have a
prophet's chamber in some corner at Selwick--the chamber over the east
porch, belike?"

"Truly, if the prophet were to hand," said Hans, looking as grave as if
he were not secretly amused.

"The prophet is to hand rather than the chamber," was the answer.
"Couldst thou not guess I meant Mr Marshall?"

Hans had guessed it some seconds back.

"A good thought, truly," he replied.

"That will I ask my grandmother," said Aubrey.

It was the evening after Aubrey's return to the White Bear when that
proposal was suggested to Lady Louvaine. A light of gladness came to
the dim blue eyes.

"My dear lad, how blessed a thought!" said she.

"But what should come of Mrs Agnes, then?" suggested Temperance.

"Oh, she could easily be fitted with some service," answered Mrs
Louvaine, who for once was not in a complaining mood. "Hans, you might
ask of Mr Leigh if he know of any such, or maybe of some apprenticeship
that should serve her. She can well work with the needle, and is a
decent maid, that should not shame her mistress, were she not over high
in the world."

"Mother!"

The indignant tone of that one word brought the handkerchief instantly
out of Mrs Louvaine's pocket.

"Well, really, Aubrey, I do think it most unreasonable! Such a way to
speak to your poor mother, and she a widow! When I have but one child,
and he--"

"He is sorry, Mother, if he spake to you with disrespect," said Aubrey
in a different tone. "But suffer me to say that if Mr Marshall come
with us, so must Mrs Agnes."

"Now, Faith, do be quiet! I've been counting on Mrs Agnes to see to
things a bit, and save Edith,--run about for my Lady Lettice, see you,
and get our Lettice into her good ways."

"You don't say, to spare _me_," wailed Mrs Louvaine.

"No, my dear, I don't," replied Temperanoe, significantly. "I'll spare
you when you need sparing; don't you fear."

Mr Marshall and Agnes were as glad as they were astonished--and that
was no little--to hear of the provision in store for them. To pass from
those three rooms in Shoe Lane to the breezy hills and wide chambers of
Selwick Hall--to live no more from hand to mouth, with little in either,
but to be assured, as far as they could be so, among the changes and
chances of this mortal life, of bread to eat and raiment to put on--to
be treated as beloved and honoured friends instead of meeting with
scornful words and averted looks--this was glad news indeed. Mr
Mar