rt of clinging round her grandmother's neck, and
being told that it was all nonsense. Jem should have his rights, and
Uncle Oliver would learn to love and honour him at last; and she was a
good child, and ought to have been prepared, if granny could have
guessed he would do it so publicly and suddenly, but she must forgive
him, for he was beside himself at having got them home again, and he
could not make enough of her because she was poor Henry's child. So
she saw granny must not be grieved, and she let herself be dressed for
a constrained dinner in the vast dining-room, where the servants
outnumbered the diners, and the silver covers bore the Dynevor dragon
as a handle, looking as spiteful as some of the race could do.

Oliver was obliged to conclude that no offer had passed between the two
young people; but on the way home next morning the Earl observed,
'Clara Frost has a fine figure, and is much improved by dress. She
shows excellent feeling, and does credit to her education.'

'The Pendragon blood never had a finer development,' said Louis.

'Even supposing justice done to poor James, she will have a handsome
portion. Oliver will have far more to dispose of than the five
thousand pounds guaranteed to her.'

'Poor child!' said Louis.

'Yes, I pity her for being exposed to his parading. He forgot the
gentleman in his merchant's office. If you should ever have any
thoughts of rescuing her from him, my approval would not be wanting,
and it would be the easiest way of restoring her brother.'

'My dear father, if Clara and I were always sister and brother when she
was poor, we certainly shall be no more now.'

Lord Ormersfield mentally execrated Mr. Ponsonby, and felt that he had
spoken too soon.

Jane's felicity was complete when, a few days after, she received,
addressed in Lord Fitzjocelyn's handwriting, an Illustrated News, with
a whole page containing 'the reception of Mrs. Dynevor of Cheveleigh,'
with grand portraits of all the flounces and veils, many gratuitous
moustaches, something passing for Oliver standing up with a wine-glass
in his hand, a puppy that would have perfectly justified Mr. Ponsonby's
aversion representing Lord Fitzjocelyn, and no gaps at the
banquet-table.

That picture Mrs. Beckett caused to be framed and glazed, kept it as
her treasure for life, and put it into her will as a legacy to
Charlotte Arnold.

CHAPTER IX.

THE GIANT OF THE WESTERN STAR.

Come, let us ra