e inhabited.'

'Indeed,' she said, highly gratified; 'I thought you wanted nothing but
St. Matthew's.'

'Nay,' said Robert, as a bright colour came over his usually set and
impassive countenance. 'You do not want me to say what you have always
been to me, and how better things have been fostered by your presence,
ever since the day you let me out of Hiltonbury Church. I have often
since thought it was no vain imagination that you were a good spirit sent
to my rescue by Mr. Charlecote.'

'Poor Robin,' said Honor, her lip quivering; 'it was less what I gave
than what you gathered up. I barely tolerated you.'

'Which served me right,' said Robert, 'and made me respect you. There
are so few to blame me now that I need you all the more. I can hardly
cede to Owen the privilege of being your only son.'

'You are my autumn-singing Robin,' said Honor, too true to let him think
that he could stand beside Owen in her affections, but with intense
pleasure at such unwonted warmth from one so stern and reserved; it was
as if he was investing her with some of the tenderness that the loss of
Lucilla had left vacant, and bestowing on her the confidences to which
new relations might render Phoebe less open. It was no slight preferment
to be Robert Fulmort's motherly friend; and far beyond her as he had
soared, she might still be the softening element in his life, as once she
had been the ennobling one. If she had formed Robert, or even given one
impulse such as to lead to his becoming what he was, the old maid had not
lived in vain.

She was not selfish enough to be grieved at Owen's ecstasy in
emancipation; and trusting to being near enough to watch over him without
being in his way, she could enjoy his overflowing spirits, and detect
almost a jocund sound in the thump of his crutch across the hall, as he
hurried in, elated with hopes of the success of his invention, eager
about the Canadian railway, delighted with the society of his congeners,
and pouring out on her all sorts of information that she could not
understand. The certainty that her decision was for his happiness ought
surely to reconcile her to carrying home his rival in his stead.

Going down by an early train, she resolved, by Robert's advice, to visit
Beauchamp at once, and give Mervyn a distinct explanation of her
intentions. He was tardy in taking them in, then exclaimed--'Phoebe's
teetotaller! Well, he is a sharp fellow! The luck that some men have!'