an into spoiling poor Lucilla's son. If I am
not to do what I think right by him, I shall get out of sight of it all.'

'His prospects, Kit; how often I have told you it is our duty to consider
his prospects.'

'Hang his prospects! A handsome heiress under forty! How can you be
such an ass, Charles? He ought to be able to make an independent fortune
before he could stand in her shoes, if he were ever to do so, which she
declares he never will. Yes, you may look knowing if you will, but she
is no such fool in some things; and depend upon it she will make a
principle of leaving her property in the right channel; and be that as it
may, I warn you that you can't do this lad a worse mischief than by
putting any such notion into his head, if it be not there already.
There's not a more deplorable condition in the world than to be always
dangling after an estate, never knowing if it is to be your own or not,
and most likely to be disappointed at last; and, to do Miss Charlecote
justice, she is perfectly aware of that; and it will not be her fault if
he have any false expectations! So, if you feed him with them, it will
all be your fault; and that's the last I mean to say about him.'

Captain Charteris was not aware of a colloquy in which Owen had a share.

'This lucky fellow,' said the young Life-guardsman, 'he is as good as an
eldest son--famous shooting county--capital, well-timbered estate.'

'No, Charles,' said Owen, 'my cousin Honor always says I am nothing like
an eldest son, for there are nearer relations.'

'Oh ha!' said Charles, with a wink of superior wisdom, 'we understand
that. She knows how to keep you on your good behaviour. Why, but for
cutting you out, I would even make up to her myself--fine-looking, comely
woman, and well-preserved--and only the women quarrel with that splendid
hair. Never mind, my boy, I don't mean it. I wouldn't stand in your
light.'

'As if Honor would have _you_!' cried Owen, in fierce scorn. Charles
Charteris and his companions, with loud laughter, insisted on the
reasons.

'Because,' cried the boy, with flashing looks, 'she would not be
ridiculous; and you are--' He paused, but they held him fast, and
insisted on hearing what Charles was.

'Not a good Churchman,' he finally pronounced. 'Yes, you may laugh at
me, but Honor shan't be laughed at.'

Possibly Owen's views at present were that 'not to be a good Churchman'
was synonymous with all imaginable evil, and tha