breakfast. Now Major d'Arcy is a
gentleman, rich, sufficiently handsome, and once a husband would be
fairly easy to manage! Indeed I might do worse, aunt!"

"But so much--ah, so very much better, girl. There is the Duke of
Nairn----"

"A drunken old reprobate! Charles told me that once, being more tipsy
than usual he----"

"Hush, miss! He worshipped you. Then there is His Grace of
Hawcastle----"

"An addle-pated popinjay!"

"Fie, Betty! Then there is Lord Alvaston, the Marquis, Viscount
Merivale and the rest----"

"Aye, but I can't wed 'em all, aunt, so will I wed none!"

"Lud child, here's scandalous talk! But O Betty, what--what of love?"

"True, dear aunt--what?"

"Ah, child, 'tis fair woman's crowning joy and strong man's consolation
sweet----

"'Tis a disease and megrim o' the mind, aunt, the which, I do thank
heaven, hath ne'er yet come anigh me----"

"Aye but it will, Betty, it will!"

"Then with pill and purge and bolus I will drive it hence again."

"Nay child," sighed the Lady Belinda, as her niece arose, "talk how you
will, but when love comes to thee, as come he will, why then, Ah me!
what with thy ardent temperament, thy headstrong spirits, thy bustling
health then--O then shall I tremble for thee!"

"Nay, prithee spare yourself, dear aunt, I can tremble for myself when
needful." Saying which my lady went out into the garden.

Very slowly she went, her head bowed, her bright eyes grave and
troubled; once she stopped to frown at a hollyhock and once to cull a
rose only to drop it all unnoticed ere she had gone a dozen yards.
Thus thoughtful and preoccupied she came to that secluded corner of her
garden where, against a certain wall a ladder stood invitingly:
mounting forthwith, she perched herself upon the broad coping and
glanced down into the Major's orchard. The hutch-like sentry-box
showed deserted but at the foot of the wall and almost immediately
below her, Sergeant Zebedee stooped above a new-turned border of earth,
busily engaged with a foot-rule. Lady Betty reached softly over and
plucking an apricot, dropped it with remarkable accuracy into the very
middle of the Sergeant's trim wig.

"_Sacre nom!_" he ejaculated, and starting erect, glanced up into my
lady's serene blue eyes.

"'Tis Sergeant Zebedee, I think?" she enquired gravely.

The Sergeant saluted and stood at attention:

"I was so baptised, my lady, and an uncommon awk'ard name I've found
it."

"Nay,