ery voice was wanting to
the house; and the absence of his merry whistle seemed to make Sir
Marmaduke's heart sink like lead as he donned his heavy boots, and went
forth in the silver dew of the summer morning to judge which of his
cornfields would soonest be ready for the sickle. Until this expedition
of his sons he had, for more than fourteen years never been alone in
those morning rounds on his farm; and much as he loved his daughters,
they seemed to weigh very light in the scale compared with the sturdy
heir who loved every acre with his own ancestral love. Indeed, perhaps,
Sir Marmaduke had deeper, fonder affection for the children of his first
marriage, because he had barely been able to give his full heart to
their mother before she was taken from him, and he had felt almost
double tenderness to be due to them, when he at length obtained his
first and only true love. Now, as he looked over the shinning billows
of the waving barley, his heart was very sore with longing for Philip's
gladsome shout at the harvest-field, and he thought with surprise and
compunction how he had seen Lucy leave him struggling with a flood of
tears. While he was still thus gazing, a head appeared in the narrow
path that led across the fields, and presently he recognized the
slender, upright form of the young Frenchman.

'A fair good morrow to you, Master Merrycourt! You come right early to
look after your ode?'

'Sir,' said Mericour, gravely saluting him, 'I come to make you my
confession. I find that I did not deal truly with you last night, but it
was all unwittingly.'

'How?' exclaimed Sir Marmaduke, recollecting Lucy's tears and looking
much startled. 'You have not---' and there he broke off, seeing Mericour
eager to speak.

'Sir,' he said, 'I was bred as one set apart from love. I had never
learnt to think it possible to me,--I thought so even when I replied to
you last evening; but, sir, the words you then spoke, the question you
asked me set my heart burning, and my senses whirling---' And between
agitation and confusion he stammered and clasped his hands passionately,
trying to continue what he was saying, but muttering nothing
intelligible.

Sir Marmaduke filled up the interval with a long whistle of perplexity;
but, too kind not to pity the youth's distress, he laid his hand on his
shoulder, saying, 'You found out you were but a hot-blooded youth after
all, but an honest one. For, as I well trust, my lass knows nought of