time,
he had only one thought, and that was the sacred day when he should
again see the being whom he adored, and that in her beautiful home,
which her presence made more lovely.

Yes! he was again at Princedown, in the bosom of her family; none others
there; treated like one of themselves. The courtly father pressed his
hand; the amiable and refined mother smiled upon him; the daughters,
pretty, and natural as the air, treated him as if they were sisters, and
even the eldest son, who generally hates you, after a little stiffness,
announced in a tone never questioned under the family roof, that
"Ferrars was a first-rate shot."

And so a month rolled on; immensely happy, as any man who has loved,
and loved in a beautiful scene, alone can understand. One morning Lady
Montfort said to him, "I must go up to London about my house. I want
to go and return the same day. Do you know, I think you had better come
with me? You shall give me a luncheon in Hill Street, and we shall
be back by the last train. It will be late, but we shall wake in the
morning in the country, and that I always think a great thing."

And so it happened; they rose early and arrived in town in time to give
them a tolerably long morning. She took him to her house in Carlton
Gardens, and showed to him exactly how it was all she wanted;
accommodation for a first-rate establishment; and then the reception
rooms, few houses in London could compare with them; a gallery and three
saloons. Then they descended to the dining-room. "It is a dining-room,
not a banqueting hall," she said, "which we had at Montfort House, but
still it is much larger than most dining-rooms in London. But, I think
this room, at least I hope you do, quite charming," and she took him to
a room almost as large as the dining-room, and looking into the garden.
It was fitted up with exquisite taste; calm subdued colouring, with
choice marble busts of statesmen, ancient and of our times, but the
shelves were empty.

"They are empty," she said, "but the volumes to fill them are already
collected. Yes," she added in a tremulous voice, and slightly pressing
the arm on which she leant. "If you will deign to accept it, this is the
chamber I have prepared for you."

"Dearest of women!" and he took her hand.

"Yes," she murmured, "help me to realise the dream of my life;" and she
touched his forehead with her lips.

CHAPTER XCIX

The marriage of Mr. Ferrars with Lady Montfort surprised s