et; we cannot settle on a name. I should like it to be
called Lilian, but both George and Lippa say it would be unlucky; he,
you know, always hopes we may find her again.'

'And yourself, dear?' asks Lady Dadford.

'I think I have almost given up hope now. You know the body of a little
child was found in a river, not far from L---- (where we were living
then) and it answered so much to the description of Lilian; she was such
a dear little thing. It is worse than if she had died at home and ...'

'Yes, yes, I understand,' says Lady Dadford, 'but I would not give up
hope quite. I agree with the old proverb, "Hope on, hope ever," you
know. But tell me about Philippa? very happy, I suppose.'

'Perfectly happy,' replies Mabel. 'I can't imagine her as a wife, she's
such a child, but Jimmy is sure to take great care of her, and she has
come into some money by her mother's death.'

'Ah yes! it must have been a very happy release, a very happy release,'
and Lady Dadford shakes her head gravely. 'Did the dear child ever know
anything about it?'

'Yes, she overheard you talking to me that day in the summer, when we
went for a picnic, and she foolishly never said a word about it, but
made up her mind that she could not marry anyone, because she might go
out of her mind, so she refused Jimmy at first, and all this time she
has been making both him and herself miserable.'

'Miserable, who is miserable?' asks Lippa, coming in followed by
Dalrymple.

'No one, I hope,' says he, 'ah, Lady Dadford,' he continues on catching
sight of her, 'how do you do?'

'Better, thank you,' she replies, she always makes a point of answering
that foolish question, and invariably does so by saying 'Better'--she
has been better for so long that she must have reached a most perfect
state of health by now. 'Really much better; I came here to congratulate
you: Lippa, my dear, you cannot think how pleased I am,' this
accompanied by a kiss.

Lippa cannot think of anything to say and therefore remains silent.

'Anne would have come with me,' rattles on the old lady, 'she sent you
all sorts of messages, but she had to go to a cooking class, and she
felt sure you would understand that it was a case of duty before
pleasure.'

'I shouldn't have thought it was a _duty_ for a Marquis' daughter to
learn cooking,' thinks Jimmy and something in the merriment depicted in
his eyes causes Philippa to cast a reproachful glance at him, and then
to enter heart a