ssity for lying down. Don't wear that scared face, May--it was
nothing, I assure you. Go on with what you were saying, Rupert."

"What I was saying? what was it?"

"About this young artist's resemblance to the Thetfords."

"Oh! well, there's no more to say, that is all. He saved my life, he
painted that picture, and we were Damon and Pythias over again during my
stay in Rome. I always do fraternize with these sort of fellows, you
know. I left him in Rome, and he promised, if he ever returned to
England, which he wasn't so sure of, he would run down to Devonshire to
see me and my painted ancestors, whom he resembles so strongly. That is
all; and now young ladies if you will take your places, we will commence
the Rosamond and Eleanor. Mother, sit here by this window, if you want
to play propriety, and don't talk."

But Lady Thetford chose to go to her own room; and her son gave her his
arm thither, and left her lying back amongst her cushions in front of
the fire. It was always chilly in those great and somewhat gloomy rooms,
and her ladyship was always cold of late. She lay there looking with
gloomy eyes into the ruddy blaze, and holding her hands over her
painfully beating heart.

"It is destiny, I suppose," she thought, bitterly; "let me banish him to
the farthest end of the earth; let me keep him in poverty and obscurity
all his life, and when the day comes that it is written, Guy Legard will
be here. Sooner or later, the vow I have broken to Sir Noel Thetford
must be kept; sooner or later, Sir Noel's heir will have his own."

CHAPTER X.

ASKING IN MARRIAGE.

The fire burned in Lady Thetford's room, and among piles of silken
pillows my lady, languid and pale, lay, looking into the leaping flame.
It was a warm summer morning, the sun blazed like a wheel of fire in a
sky without a cloud, but Lady Thetford was always chilly of late. She
drew the crimson shawl she wore closer around her, and glanced
impatiently now and then at the pretty toy clock on the decorated
chimney-piece. The house was very still; its one disturbing element,
Miss Everard, was absent with Sir Rupert for a morning canter over the
sunny Devon hills.

The toy clock struck up a gay little waltz preparatory to striking
eleven, and my lady turned with a restless, impatient sigh among her
pillows.

"How long they stay, and these solitary rides are so dangerous! Oh! what
will become of me if it is too late, after all! What shall I do if