he high nose. Will he make her
happy because he is a lord's son? That is what I should like to ask her.
Poor Rachel, if we had been able to marry five years ago we should never
have heard of this society craze. Well, it's all over now." And Mr.
Tristram henceforward took the position of a man suffering from an
indelible attachment to a woman who had thrown him over for a title.

* * * * *

The Gresleys were astonished at the engagement. It was so extraordinary
that they should know both persons. Now that they came to think of it,
both of them had been to tea at the Vicarage only last summer.

"A good many people pop in and out of this house," they agreed.

"I am as certain as that I stand here," said Mr. Gresley, who was
sitting down, "that that noisy boor, that underbred, foul-mouthed Dick
Vernon wanted to marry her."

"Don't mention him," said Mrs. Gresley. "When I think of what he dared
to say--"

"My love," said Mr. Gresley, "I have forgiven him. I have put from my
mind all he said, for I am convinced he was under the influence of drink
at the time. We must make allowance for those who live in hot climates.
I bear him no grudge. But I am glad that a man of that stamp should not
marry Miss West. Drunkenness makes a hell of married life. Mr. Scarlett,
though he looked delicate, had at least the appearance of being
abstemious."

* * * * *

Fraeulein heard the news as she was packing her boxes to leave Warpington
Vicarage. She was greatly depressed. She could not be with her dear Miss
Gresley in this mysterious illness which some secret sorrow had brought
upon her; but at least Miss West could minister to her. And now it
seemed Miss West was thinking of "Brauetigams" more than of Hester.

Fraeulein had been very uncomfortable at the Vicarage, but she wept at
leaving. Mrs. Gresley had never attained to treating her with the
consideration which she would have accorded to one whom she considered
her equal. The servants were allowed to disregard with impunity her
small polite requests. The nurse was consistently, ferociously jealous
of her. But the children had made up for all, and now she was leaving
them; and she did not own it to herself, for she was but five-and-thirty
and the shyest of the shy; but she should see no more that
noble-hearted, that musical Herr B-r-r-rown.

* * * * *

"Doll," said Sybell Loftus to her