this time?'

'By not caring for three hundred a year--a hundred and fifty each--when
that is all I have to offer you.'

'Faith!' said he, looking up for the first time. 'Ah--of course! Lucy's
will. I had forgotten.'

'It is true, and I had prepared such a pleasant surprise for you, and now
you don't care! Our cousin Lucy did leave us something after all. I
don't understand the exact total sum, but it comes to a hundred and fifty
a year each--more than I expected, though not so much as you deserved.
Here's the letter. I have been dwelling upon it all day, and thinking
what a pleasure it would be; and it is not after all!'

'Good gracious, Faith, I was only supposing. The real thing is another
matter altogether. Well, the idea of Lucy's will containing our names! I
am sure I would have gone to the funeral had I known.'

'I wish it were a thousand.'

'O no--it doesn't matter at all. But, certainly, three hundred for two
is a tantalizing sum: not enough to enable us to change our condition,
and enough to make us dissatisfied with going on as we are.'

'We must forget we have it, and let it increase.'

'It isn't enough to increase much. We may as well use it. But how? Take
a bigger house--what's the use? Give up the organ?--then I shall be
rather worse off than I am at present. Positively, it is the most
provoking amount anybody could have invented had they tried ever so long.
Poor Lucy, to do that, and not even to come near us when father died. . .
. Ah, I know what we'll do. We'll go abroad--we'll live in Italy.'

SEQUEL. ANGLEBURY--ENCKWORTH--SANDBOURNE

Two years and a half after the marriage of Ethelberta and the evening
adventures which followed it, a man young in years, though considerably
older in mood and expression, walked up to the 'Red Lion' Inn at
Anglebury. The anachronism sat not unbecomingly upon him, and the voice
was precisely that of the Christopher Julian of heretofore. His way of
entering the inn and calling for a conveyance was more off-hand than
formerly; he was much less afraid of the sound of his own voice now than
when he had gone through the same performance on a certain chill evening
the last time that he visited the spot. He wanted to be taken to
Knollsea to meet the steamer there, and was not coming back by the same
vehicle.

It was a very different day from that of his previous journey along the
same road; different in season; different in weather; and t