a thing--there is no need--Mary will be rich
enough,' exclaimed Hammond, hastily.

'With five hundred a year and the fruits of your industry,' said Lady
Maulevrier. 'Yes, yes, with modest aspirations and simple habits, people
can live happily, honourably, on a few hundreds a year. And if you
really mean to devote yourself to literature, and do not mind burying
yourself alive in this lake district until you have made your name as a
writer, why the problem of ways and means will be easily solved.'

'Dear Lady Maulevrier, I am not afraid of ways and means. That is the
last question which need trouble you. I told Lesbia when I offered
myself to her nearly a year ago, that if she would trust me, if she
would cleave to me, poverty should never touch her, sordid care should
never come near her dwelling. But she could not believe me. She was like
Thomas the twin. I could show her no palpable security for my
promise--and she would not believe for the promise' sake. Mary trusted
me; and Mary shall not regret her confidence.'

'Ah! it was different with Lesbia,' sighed Lady Maulevrier. 'I taught
her to be ambitious. She had been schooled to set a high price upon
herself. I know she cared for you--very much, even. But she could not
face poverty; or, if you like, I will say that she could not face an
obscure existence--sacrifice her ambition, a justifiable ambition in one
so lovely, at the bidding of her first wooer. And then, again, she was
told that if she married you, she would for ever forfeit my regard. You
must not blame her for obeying me.'

'I do not blame her; for I have won the peerless pearl--the jewel above
all price--a perfect woman. And now, dear Lady Maulevrier, give me but
your consent, and I am off to York this afternoon, to interview the
Archbishop, and get the special licence, which will allow me to wed my
darling here by your couch to-morrow afternoon.'

'I have no objection to your getting the licence immediately; but you
must let me write a cheque before you go. A special licence is
expensive--I believe it costs fifty pounds.'

'If it cost a thousand I should not think it dear. But I have a notion
that I shall be able to get the licence--cheap. You have made me wild
with happiness.'

'But you must not refuse my cheque.'

'Indeed I must, Lady Maulevrier. I am not quite such a pauper as you
think me.'

'But fifty pounds and the expenses of the journey; an outlay altogether
unexpected on your part. I b