Julius; "but who could not have been pleasant to the mediaeval
clergyman. I have hopes of poor Fanny yet. She will drift home one
of these days, and we shall get hold of her."

"What a fellow you are for hoping!" returned Raymond, a little
impatiently.

"Why not?" said Julius.

"Why! I should say--" replied Raymond, setting out to walk home,
where he presided over his friend's breakfast and departure, and
received a little banter over his solicitude for the precious
infant. Cecil was still in bed, and Frank was looking ghastly, and
moved and spoke like one in a dream, Raymond was relieved to hear
him pleading with Susan for to his mother's room much earlier than
usual.

Susan took pity and let him in; when at once he flung himself into a
chair, with his face hidden on the bed, and exclaimed, "Mother, it
is all over with me!"

"My dear boy, what can have happened?"

"Mother, you remember those two red pebbles. Could you believe that
she has sold hers?"

"Are you sure she has? I heard that they had a collection of such
things from the lapidary at Rockpier."

"No, mother, that is no explanation. When I found that I should be
able to come down, I sent a card to Lady Tyrrell, saying I would
meet them on the race-ground--a post-card, so that Lena might see
it. When I came there was no Lena, only some excuse about resting
for the ball--lying down with a bad headache, and so forth--making
it plain that I need not go on to Sirenwood. By and by there was
some mild betting with the ladies, and Lady Tyrrell said, 'There's a
chance for you, Bee; don't I see the very fellow to Conny's charm?'
Whereupon that girl Conny pulled out the very stone I gave Lena
three years ago at Rockpier. I asked; yes, I asked--Lena had sold
it; Lena, at the bazaar; Lena, who--"

"Stay, Frank, is this trusting Lena as she bade you trust her? How
do you know that there were no other such pebbles?"

"You have not seen her as I have done. There has been a gradual
alienation--holding aloof from us, and throwing herself into the
arms of those Strangeways. It is no fault of her sister's. She has
lamented it to me."

"Or pointed it out. Did she know the history of these pebbles?"

"No one did. Lena was above all reserved with her."

"Camilla Tyrrell knows a good deal more than she is told. Where's
your pebble? You did not stake that?"

"Those who had one were welcome to the other."

"O, my poor foolish Frank! May it not be