"It is odd that you should have started this subject. I too have just
signed a new will."

"Ah!" Ferrier's broad countenance showed a very human curiosity. "I
believe you are scarcely more blessed with kindred than I?"

"No. In the main I could please myself. I have left the bulk of what I
had to leave--to Miss Mallory."

"Excellent!" cried Ferrier. "She treats you already like a daughter."

"She is very kind to me," said Sir James, with a touch of ceremony that
became him. "And there is no one in whom I feel a deeper interest."

"She must be made happy!" exclaimed Ferrier--"she _must_! Is there no
one--besides Oliver?"

Sir James drew himself up. "I hope she has put all thought of Oliver out
of her mind long since. Well!--I had a letter from Lady Felton last
week--dear woman that!--all the love-affairs in the county come to roost
in her mind. She talks of young Roughsedge. Perhaps you don't know
anything of the gentleman?"

He explained, so far as his own knowledge went. Ferrier listened
attentively. A soldier? Good. Handsome, modest, and capable?--better.
Had just distinguished himself in this Nigerian expedition--mentioned in
despatches last week. Better still!--so long as he kept clear of the
folly of allowing himself to be killed. But as to the feelings of the
young lady?

Sir James sighed. "I sometimes see in her traces of--of
inheritance--which make one anxious."

Ferrier's astonishment showed itself in mouth and eyes.

"What I mean is," said Sir James, hastily, "a dramatic, impassioned way
of looking at things. It would never do if she were to get any damned
nonsense about 'expiation,' or not being free to marry, into her head."

Ferrier agreed, but a little awkwardly, since the "damned nonsense" was
Lady Lucy's nonsense, and both knew it.

They walked slowly back to Assisi, first putting their elderly heads
together a little further on the subject of Diana, and then passing on
to the politics of the moment--to the ever present subject of the party
revolt, and its effect on the election.

"Pshaw!--let them attack you as they please!" said Chide, after they had
talked awhile. "You are safe enough. There is no one else. You are like
the hero in a novel, 'the indispensable.'"

Ferrier laughed.

"Don't be so sure. There is always a 'supplanter'--when the time is
ripe."

"Where is he? Who is he?"

"I had a very curious letter from Lord Philip this morning," said
Ferrier, thoughtfully.

Chide