referable to his gloom, but it was decidedly
repressed by Robert.

She had to repair to solitary restlessness in the drawing-room, and was
left alone there till so late that Robert departed after a single cup of
tea, cutting short a captious argument of Owen's about impossibility of
proof, and truth being only true in a sense.

Owen's temper was, however, less morose; and when his sister was lighting
his candle for him at night, kindly said, 'What a bore I've been all day,
Lucy.'

'I am glad to be with you, dear Owen; I have no one else.'

'Eh? What's become of Rashe?'

'Never mention her again!'

'What? They've cut you?'

'I have cut them.'

She related what had passed.

Owen set his face into a frown. 'Even so, Charlie; doltishness less
pardonable than villainy! You were right to cut the connection, Lucy; it
has been our curse. So now you will back to poor Honor, and try to make
it up to her.'

'I'm not going near Honor till she forgives you, and receives your
child.'

'Then you will be very ridiculous,' said Owen, impatiently. 'She has no
such rancour against me as you have against her, poor dear; but it is not
in the nature of things that she should pass over this unlucky
performance.'

'If it had been such a performance as Charles desired, I should have said
so.'

'Pshaw! I hadn't the chance; and gloss it as you will, Lucy, there's no
disguising it, she _would_ have it, and I could not help it, but she was
neglected, and it killed her!' He brought his hand down on the table
with a heavy thump, which together with the words made his sister recoil.
'Could Honor treat me the same after that? And she not my mother,
either! Why had not my father the sense to have married her? Then I
could go to her and get rid of this intolerable weight!' and he groaned
aloud.

'A mother could hardly love you more,' said Lucy, to her own surprise.
'If you will but go to here,--when she sees you so unhappy.'

'Out of the question,' broke in Owen; 'I can't stay here! I would have
gone this very night, but I can't be off till that poor thing--'

'Off!'

'Ay, to the diggings, somewhere, anywhere, to get away from it all!'

'Oh, Owen, do nothing mad!'

'I'm not going to do anything just now, I tell you. Don't be in a
fright. I shan't take French leave of you. You'll find me to-morrow
morning, worse luck. Good night.'

Lucilla was doubly glad to have come. Her pride approved his proposal,
though h