n
them, when his messenger brought the letter to him. He read it in
silence very deliberately, then crushed it in his hand, and threw it
from him with violence into the fire.

"I hope there is nothing further to distress you, Lucius," said his
mother, looking up into his face as though she were imploring his
confidence.

"No, nothing; nothing that matters. It is an affair quite private to
myself."

Sir Peregrine had spoken with great truth when he declared that
Lucius Mason was able to bear adversity. This last blow had now come
upon him, but he made no wailings as to his misery, nor did he say
a word further on the subject. His mother watched the paper as the
flame caught it and reduced it to an ash; but she asked no further
question. She knew that her position with him did not permit of her
asking, or even hoping, for his confidence.

"I had no right to expect it would be otherwise," he said to himself.
But even to himself he spoke no word of reproach against Miss
Furnival. He had realised the circumstances by which he was
surrounded, and had made up his mind to bear their result.

As for Miss Furnival, we may as well declare here that she did not
become Mrs. Staveley. Our old friend Augustus conceived that he had
received a sufficient answer on the occasion of his last visit to
Harley Street, and did not repeat it immediately. Such little scenes
as that which took place there had not been uncommon in his life; and
when in after months he looked back upon the affair, he counted it up
as one of those miraculous escapes which had marked his career.

CHAPTER LXXIX

FAREWELL

"That letter you got this morning, my dear, was it not from Lady
Mason?"

"It was from Lady Mason, father; they go on Thursday."

"On Thursday; so soon as that." And then Sir Peregrine, who had asked
the question, remained silent for a while. The letter, according
to the family custom, had been handed to Mrs. Orme over the
breakfast-table; but he had made no remark respecting it till they
were alone together and free from the servants. It had been a
farewell letter, full of love and gratitude, and full also of
repentance. Lady Mason had now been for three weeks in London, and
once during that time Mrs. Orme had gone up to visit her. She had
then remained with her friend for hours, greatly to Lady Mason's
comfort, and now this letter had come, bringing a last adieu.

"You may read it, sir, if you like," said Mrs. Orme, handing