'But you have no expectation of falling ill, I hope, Steadman; you have
no premonition of any malady?'

'No, my lady, none--except the malady of old age. I feel that I am not
the man I once was, that is all. My brain is getting woolly, and my
sight is clouded now and then. And if I were to fall ill suddenly----'

'Oh, it would be terrible, it would be a dire calamity! There is your
wife, certainly, to look after things, but----'

'My wife would do her best, my lady. She is a faithful creature, but she
is not--yes, without any unkindness I must say that Mrs. Steadman is not
a genius!'

'Oh, Steadman, you must not fail me! I am horror-stricken at the mere
idea,' exclaimed Lady Maulevrier. 'After forty years--great God! it
would be terrible. Lesbia, Mary, Maulevrier! the great, malignant,
babbling world outside these doors. I am hemmed round with perils. For
God's sake preserve your strength. Take care of your health. You are my
strong rock. If you feel that there is anything amiss with you, or that
your strength is failing, consult Mr. Horton--neglect no precaution. The
safety of this house, of the family honour, hangs upon you.'

'Pray do not agitate yourself, my lady,' entreated Steadman. 'I was
wrong to trouble you with my fears. I shall not fail you, be sure.
Although I am getting old, I shall hold out to the end.'

'The end cannot be very far off,' said Lady Maulevrier, gloomily.

'I thought that forty years ago, my lady. But you are right--the end
must be near now. Yes, it must be near. And now, my lady, your orders
about the wedding.'

'It will take place to-morrow, as I told you, in this room. You will go
to the Vicar and ask him to officiate. His two daughters will no doubt
consent to be Lady Mary's bridesmaids. You will make the request in my
name. Perhaps the Vicar will call this afternoon and talk matters over
with me. Lady Mary and her husband will go to Cumberland for a brief
honeymoon--a week at most--and then they will come back to Fellside.
Tell Mrs. Power to prepare the east wing for them. She will make one of
the rooms into a boudoir for Lady Mary; and let everything be as bright
and pretty as good taste can make it. She can telegraph to London for
any new furniture that may be wanted to complete her arrangements. And
now send Lady Mary to me.'

Mary came, fresh from the pine-wood, where she had been walking with her
lover; her lover of to-day, her husband to-morrow. He had told her how
he was