liament. But a little veil of silence
had fallen over Lucy too. It cost her an effort to speak even to Jock of
common subjects and of his going away. She had thought him looking a
little disturbed, however, on the last morning, and with the newspaper
forming a sort of screen between them and Sir Tom, Lucy made an attempt
to talk to her brother as of old.

"I shall miss you very much, Jock. We have not had so much time together
as we thought."

"We have had no time together, Lucy."

"You must not say that, dear. Don't you recollect that drive to
Farafield? We have not had so many walks, it is true; but then I have
been--occupied."

"Is it ever finished yet, that business?" Jock said suddenly.

It was all Lucy could do not to give him a warning look. "I have had
some letters about it. A thing cannot be finished in a minute like
that." Instinctively she spoke low to escape her husband's ear; he had
never referred to the subject, and she avoided it religiously. It gave
her a thrill of alarm to have it thus reintroduced. To escape it, she
said, raising her voice a little: "The Contessa's letters have not been
sent to her. You must ring the bell, Jock. There are a great many for
her." The name of the Contessa always moved Sir Tom to a certain
attention. He seemed to be on the alert for what might be said of her.
He looked round the corner of the paper with a short laugh, and said,
jocularly, with mock gravity--

"It is a great thing to keep up your correspondence, Lucy. You never can
know when it may prove serviceable. If it had not been for that, she
most likely never would have come here."

Lucy smiled, though with a little restraint. "Perhaps she is sorry now,"
she said, "for it must be dull." Then she hurriedly changed the subject,
afraid lest she might seem ill-natured. "Poor Miss Bice has never any
letters," she said; "she must have very few friends."

"Oh, she has nobody at all," said Jock, "She hasn't got a relation. She
has always lived like this, in different places; and never been to
school, or--anywhere; though she has been nearly round the world."

"Poor little thing! and she is fond of children too," said Lucy. "I
found her one day with baby on her shoulder, a wet day when he could not
get out, racing up and down the long gallery with him crowing and
laughing. It was so pretty to see him----"

"Or to see her, Lucy, most people would say," said Sir Tom, interrupting
again.

"Would they? Oh, yes. But