you
contented, dear?" she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

"More than contented, Cuthbert. I have been worrying myself greatly
while you have been away, and I never thought that it would end as
happily as this. I know, dear, that you have concealed a great deal from
me, but I am contented to know no more than that. I am as sure as if you
had told me that you have brought all these things about in this
friendly way for my sake. And now," she said after a pause, "what are
your plans for yourself?"

"You mean for us, Mary. Well, dear, my plan is that we shall wait on
here and see how things turn out. I don't want to go back to England
till all these arrangements are carried out. I don't intend to have to
go to Scarborough to marry you, and I think it will be vastly better for
us to be married quietly here as soon as the chaplain at the embassy
returns, which, of course, he will do directly these troubles are over.
My present idea is, that I shall let the house at Fairclose, or shut it
up if I cannot let it, and let the rents of the property go to paying
off this mortgage, and I intend to take a modest little place near
London, to live on our joint income, and to work hard until Fairclose is
clear of this incumbrance."

"That is right, Cuthbert. I have been wondering ever since you told me
you were to have Fairclose again, if you would give up painting, and
hoping that you would still go on with it. I should so like you to win a
name for yourself as a great painter."

Cuthbert laughed. "My dear child, you are jumping a great deal too fast
at conclusions. I am not yet out from school. I have painted my two
first pictures, which you like, principally because your face is in one
of them, but that is a short step towards becoming a great artist. You
are like a young lady in love with a curate, and therefore convinced
that some day he will be Archbishop of Canterbury, and with almost
equally good foundation; however, I shall do my best, and as I shall
still have a strong motive for work, and shall have you to spur me on I
hope I may make a modest success."

"I am sure you will, and more than that," she said, warmly; "if not,"
she added, with a saucy laugh, "I think you might as well give it up
altogether; a modest success means mediocrity, and that is hateful, and
I am sure you yourself would be no more satisfied with it than I
should."

"Well, I will go on for a bit and see. I agree with you, that a thing is
no