stretches to the hand that wears it. And the child, dear child,--dear
Evelyn, she shall be the admiration of London, the beauty, the heiress,
the--oh, she will do me honour!"

"She will, she will!" said Lady Vargrave, and the tears gushed from her
eyes.

Lord Vargrave was softened.

"No mother ever deserved more from a child than you from Evelyn."

"I would hope I have done my duty," said Lady Vargrave, drying her
tears.

"Papa, papa!" cried an impatient voice, tapping at the window, "come and
play, papa--come and play at ball, papa!"

And there, by the window, stood that beautiful child, glowing with
health and mirth--her light hair tossed from her forehead, her sweet
mouth dimpled with smiles.

"My darling, go on the lawn,--don't over-exert yourself--you have not
quite recovered that horrid sprain--I will join you immediately--bless
you!"

"Don't be long, papa--nobody plays so nicely as you do;" and, nodding
and laughing from very glee, away scampered the young fairy. Lord
Vargrave turned to his wife.

"What think you of my nephew--of Lumley?" said he, abruptly.

"He seems all that is amiable, frank, and kind."

Lord Vargrave's brow became thoughtful. "I think so too," he said, after
a short pause; "and I hope you will approve of what I mean to do. You
see Lumley was brought up to regard himself as my heir--I owe something
to him, beyond the poor estate which goes with, but never can adequately
support, _my_ title. Family honours, hereditary rank, must be properly
regarded. But that dear girl--I shall leave her the bulk of my fortune.
Could we not unite the fortune and the title? It would secure the rank
to her, it would incorporate all my desires--all my duties."

"But," said Lady Vargrave, with evident surprise, "if I understand you
rightly, the disparity of years--"

"And what then, what then, Lady Vargrave? Is there no disparity of years
between _us_?--a greater disparity than between Lumley and that tall
girl. Lumley is a mere youth, a youth still, five-and-thirty; he will
be little more than forty when they marry; I was between fifty and sixty
when I married you, Lady Vargrave. I don't like boy and girl marriages:
a man should be older than his wife. But you are so romantic, Lady
Vargrave. Besides, Lumley is so gay and good-looking, and wears so well.
He has been very nearly forming another attachment; but that, I trust,
is out of his head now. They must like each other. You will not gainsay
me