in a true light, and teach her,
what she could never learn, to leave off loving and pitying. Even this
was perhaps better for her than a solitude in which she might have preyed
upon herself, and debated over every step in conscious darkness.

Before her letter was received, Owen had signed his agreement with the
engineer, and was preparing to sail in a fortnight. He was disappointed
and humiliated that Honor should have been made aware of what he had
meant to conceal, but he could still see that he was mercifully dealt
with, and was touched by, and thankful for, the warm personal
forgiveness, which he had sense enough to feel, even though it brought no
relaxation of the punishment.

Lucy was positively glad of the non-fulfilment of the condition that
would have taken her back to the Holt; and without seeing the letter, had
satisfaction in her resentment at Honor for turning on Owen vindictively,
after having spoilt him all his life.

He silenced her summarily, and set out for his preparations. She had
already carried out her project of clearing him of his liabilities. Mr.
Prendergast had advised her strongly to content herself with the _post
obit_, leaving the rest to be gradually liquidated as the means should be
obtained; but her wilful determination was beyond reasoning, and by
tyrannical coaxing she bent him to her will, and obliged him to do all in
which she could not be prominent.

Her own debts were a sorer subject, and she grudged the vain expenses
that had left her destitute, without even the power of writing grandly to
Horatia to pay off her share of the foreign expenditure. She had, to Mr.
Prendergast's great horror, told him of her governess plan, but had
proceeded no further in the matter than studying the advertisements,
until finding that Honor only invited her, and not her nephew, home to
the Holt, she proceeded to exhale her feelings by composing a sentence
for the _Times_. 'As Governess, a Lady--'

'Mr. Prendergast.'

Reddening, and abruptly hasty, the curate entered, and sitting down
without a word, applied himself to cutting his throat with an ivory
paper-knife. Lucilla began to speak, but at her first word, as though a
spell were broken, he exclaimed, 'Cilly, are you still thinking of that
ridiculous nonsense?'

'Going out as a governess? Look there;' and she held up her writing.

He groaned, gave himself a slice under each ear, and viciously bit the
end of the paper-knife.

'You