her
husband might feel themselves master and mistress in the lower part of
the house.

'And if your husband really means to devote himself to literature, he
can have no better workshop than the library I have put together,' said
Lady Maulevrier.

'And no better adviser and guide than you, dear grandmother, you who
have read everything that has been written worth reading during the last
half century.'

'I have read a great deal, Mary, but I hardly know if I am any wiser on
that account,' answered Lady Maulevrier. 'After all, however much of
other people's wisdom we may devour, it is in ourselves that we are
thus, or thus. Our past follies rise up against us at the end of life;
and we see how little our book-learning has helped us to stand against
foolish impulses, against evil passions. "Be good," Mary, "and let who
will be wise," as the poet says. A faithful heart is your only anchor in
the stormy seas of life. My dear, I am so glad you are going to be
married.'

'It is very sudden,' said Mary.

'Very sudden; yet in your case that does not much matter. You have quite
made up your mind about Mr. Hammond, I believe.'

'Made up my mind! I began to worship him the first night he came here.'

'Foolish child. Well, there is no deed to wait for settlements. You have
only your allowance as Lord Maulevrier's daughter--a first charge on the
estate, which cannot be made away with or anticipated, and of which no
husband can deprive you.'

'He shall have every sixpence of it,' murmured Mary.

'And Mr. Hammond, though he tells me he is better off than I supposed,
can have nothing to settle. So there will be nothing forfeited by a
marriage without settlements.'

Mary could not enter upon the question. It was even of less importance
than the wedding gown.

The gong sounded for luncheon.

'Steadman's dogcart is to take Mr. Hammond to the station at half-past
two,' said Lady Maulevrier, 'so you had better go and give him his
luncheon.'

Mary needed no second bidding. She flew downstairs, and met her lover in
the hall.

What a happy luncheon it was! Fraeulein 'mounched, and mounched, and
mounched,' like the sailor's wife eating chestnuts: but those two lovers
lunched upon moonshine, upon each other's little words and little looks,
upon their own ineffable bliss. They sat side by side, and helped each
other to the nicest thing's on the table, but neither could eat, and
they got considerably mixed in their way of eating