h
him all his life, and which he missed every hour in his grief. Lucy
positively dreaded his making such submission or betraying such sorrow as
might bring Honora down on them full of pardon and beneficence. At
least, she had the satisfaction of hearing 'I've said nothing about you,
Cilla.'

'That's right!'

'Nor the child,' he continued, brushing up his hair from his brow. 'When
I came to go over it, I did hate myself to such a degree that I could not
say a word like asking a favour.'

Lucy was greatly relieved.

He looked like himself when he came down to breakfast exhilarated by the
restoration to activity, and the opening of a new path, though there was
a subdued, grave look on his young brow not unsuited to his deep
mourning.

He took up his last evening's production, looked at it with some
satisfaction, and observed, 'Sweet old honey! I do hope that letter may
be a little comfort to her good old heart!'

Then he told that he had been dreaming of her looking into the cradle,
and he could not tell whether it were himself or the boy that he had seen
sitting on a haycock at Hiltonbury.

'Who knows but it may be a good omen,' said he in his sanguine state.
'You said you would go to her, if she took the child.'

'I did not say I would not.'

'Well, don't make difficulties; pray don't, Lucilla. I want nothing for
myself; but if I could see you and the child at the Holt, and hear her
dear voice say one word of kindness, I could go out happy. Imagine if
she should come to town!'

Lucilla had no mind to imagine any such thing.

CHAPTER XIII

An upper and a lower spring
To thee, to all are given:
They mingle not, apart they gleam,
The joys of earth, of heaven on high;
God grant thee grace to choose the spring,
Even before the nether spring is dry.--M.

'One moment, Phoebe, I'll walk a little way with you;' and Honor
Charlecote, throwing on bonnet and scarf, hurried from the drawing-room
where Mrs. Saville was working.

In spite of that youthful run, and girlish escape from 'company' to a
confidante, the last fortnight had left deep traces. Every incipient
furrow had become visible, the cheeks had fallen, the eyes sunk, the
features grown prominent, and the auburn curls were streaked with silver
threads never previously perceptible to a casual eye. While languid,
mechanical talk was passing, Phoebe had been mourning over the change;
but she found her own Mis