heir feet on the fender of her ladyship's
dressing-room. Lady Lufton had especially invited her guest into
this, her most private sanctum, to which as a rule none had
admittance but her daughter, and sometimes Fanny Robarts. But to what
sanctum might not such a daughter-in-law as Griselda have admittance?
"Oh, yes--very," said Griselda.

"It seemed to me that you bestowed most of your smiles upon Ludovic."
And Lady Lufton put on a look of good pleasure that such should have
been the case.

"Oh! I don't know," said Griselda; "I did dance with him two or three
times."

"Not once too often to please me, my dear. I like to see Ludovic
dancing with my friends."

"I am sure I am very much obliged to you, Lady Lufton."

"Not at all, my dear. I don't know where he could get so nice a
partner." And then she paused a moment, not feeling how far she might
go. In the meantime Griselda sat still, staring at the hot coals.
"Indeed, I know that he admires you very much," continued Lady
Lufton.--"Oh! no, I am sure he doesn't," said Griselda; and then
there was another pause.

"I can only say this," said Lady Lufton, "that if he does do so--and
I believe he does--it would give me very great pleasure. For you
know, my dear, that I am very fond of you myself."

"Oh! thank you," said Griselda, and stared at the coals more
perseveringly than before.

"He is a young man of a most excellent disposition--though he is my
own son, I will say that--and if there should be anything between you
and him--"

"There isn't, indeed, Lady Lufton."

"But if there ever should be, I should be delighted to think that
Ludovic had made so good a choice."

"But there will never be anything of the sort, I'm sure, Lady Lufton.
He is not thinking of such a thing in the least."

"Well, perhaps he may, some day. And now, good night, my dear."

"Good night, Lady Lufton." And Griselda kissed her with the utmost
composure, and betook herself to her own bedroom. Before she retired
to sleep she looked carefully to her different articles of dress,
discovering what amount of damage the evening's wear and tear might
have inflicted.

CHAPTER XXI

Why Puck, the Pony, Was Beaten

Mark Robarts returned home the day after the scene at the Albany,
considerably relieved in spirit. He now felt that he might accept
the stall without discredit to himself as a clergyman in doing so.
Indeed, after what Mr. Sowerby had said, and after Lord Lufton's
assent