er the roof of her
dear pupil.

She took a great fancy to Lucian, which was just as well, seeing what
was the object of his visit, and complacently watched the growing
attachment between the handsome young couple, who seemed so suited to
one another. But her duties as chaperon were nominal, for when not
pottering about the garden she was knitting in a snug corner, and when
knitting failed to interest her she slumbered quietly, in defiance of
the etiquette which should have compelled her to make a third in the
conversation of her young friends.

As for Lucian and his charming hostess, they found that they had so many
tastes in common, and enjoyed each other's society so much, that they
were hardly ever apart. Diana saw with the keen eyes of a woman that
Lucian was in love with her, and let it be seen in a marvellously short
space of time, and without much difficulty, that she was in love with
him.

But even after Lucian had been at the manor a fortnight, and daily in
the society of Diana, he spoke no word of love. Seeing how beautiful she
was, and how dowered with lands and rents and horses, he began to ask
himself whether it was not rather a presumption on his part to ask her
to share his life. He had only three hundred a year--six pounds a
week--and a profession in which, as yet, he had not succeeded; so he
could offer her very little in exchange for her beauty, wealth, and
position.

The poor lover became quite pale with fruitless longing, and his spirits
fell so low that good Miss Priscilla one day drew him aside to ask about
his health.

"For," said she, "if you are ill in body, Mr. Denzil, I know of some
remedies--old woman's medicines you will call them, no doubt--which,
with the blessing of God, may do you good."

"Thank you, Miss Barbar, but I am not ill in body--worse luck!" and
Lucian sighed.

"Why worse luck, Mr. Denzil?" said the old lady severely. "That is an
ungrateful speech to Providence."

"I would rather be ill in body than ill in mind," explained Denzil,
blushing, for in some ways he was younger than his years.

"And are you ill in mind?" asked Miss Priscilla, with a twinkle in her
eyes.

"Alas! yes. Can you cure me?"

"No. For that cure I shall hand you over to Diana."

"Miss Priscilla!" And Lucian coloured again, this time with vexation.

"Oh, Mr. Denzil," laughed the governess, "because I am old you must not
imagine that I am blind. I see that you love Diana."

"Better than my l