our
choice,' answered Mary, tenderly.

She was ready to weep over that wasted life of her grandmother's; to
weep for that forced parting of true lovers, albeit the tragedy was half
a century old.

'I should have been a happier woman and a better woman if fate had been
kind to me, Mary,' answered Lady Maulevrier, gravely; 'and now that I am
daily drawing nearer the land of shadows, I will not stand in the way of
faithful lovers. I have a fancy, Mary, that I have not many months to
live.'

'Only an invalid's fancy,' said Mary, stooping down to kiss the pale
forehead, so full of thought and care; 'only a morbid fancy, nursed in
the monotony of this quiet room. Maulevrier and Jack and I must find
some way of amusing you.'

'You will never amuse me out of that conviction, my dear. I can see the
shadows lengthening and the sands running out. There are but a few
grains left in the glass, Mary; and while those last I should like to
see you and Mr. Hammond married. I should like to feel that your fate is
settled before I go. God knows what confusion and trouble may follow my
death.'

This was said with a sharp ring of despair.

'I am not going to leave you, grandmother,' said Mary.

'Not even for the man you love? You are a good girl, Mary. Lesbia has
forsaken me for a lesser temptation.'

'Grandmother, that is hardly fair. It was your own wish to have Lesbia
presented this season,' remonstrated Mary, loyal to the absent.

'True, my dear. I saw she was very tired of her life here, and I thought
it was better. But I'm sorely afraid London has spoiled her. No, Mary,
you can stay with me to the end, if you like. There is room enough for
you and your husband under this roof. I like this Mr. Hammond. His is
the only face that ever recalled the face of the dead. Yes, I like him;
and although I know nothing about him except what Maulevrier tells
me--and that is of the scantiest--still I feel, somehow, that I can
trust him. Send your lover to me, Mary. I want to have a serious talk
with him.'

Mary ran off to obey, fluttered, blushing, and trembling. This idea of
marriage in the immediate future was to be the last degree startling. A
year had seemed a very long time; and she had been told that she and her
lover must wait a year at the very least; so that vision of marriage had
seemed afar off in the dim shadowland of the future. She had been told
nothing by her lover of where she was to live, or what her life was to
be lik