his son's connection with Darrell?"

"Certainly not. He knows but what is generally said in the world, that
Darrell's daughter eloped with a Mr. Hammond, a man of inferior birth,
and died abroad, leaving but one child, who is also dead. Still Lionel
does suspect,--my very injunctions of secrecy must make him more than
suspect, that the Loselys are somehow or other mixed up With Darrell's
family history. Hush! I hear his voice yonder--they approach."

"My dear cousin, let it be settled between us, then, that you frankly
and without delay communicate to Lionel the whole truth, so far as it is
known to us, and put it to him how best and most touchingly to move Mr.
Darrell towards her, of whom we hold him to be the natural protector. I
will write to my uncle to return to England that he may assist us in the
same good work. Meanwhile, I shall have only good tidings to communicate
to Sophy in my new hopes to discover her grandfather through Merle."

Here, as the sun was setting, Lionel and Sophy came in sight,--above
their heads, the western clouds bathed in gold and purple. Sophy,
perceiving George, bounded forwards, and reached his side, breathless.

CHAPTER V.

LIONEL HAUGHTON HAVING LOST HIS HEART, IT IS NO LONGER A QUESTION OF
WHAT HE WILL DO WITH IT. BUT WHAT WILL BE DONE WITH IT IS A VERY
GRAVE QUESTION INDEED.

Lionel forestalled Lady Montfort in the delicate and embarrassing
subject which her cousin had urged her to open. For while George,
leading away Sophy, informed her of his journey to Norwich, and his
interview with Merle, Lionel drew. Lady Montfort into the house, and
with much agitation, and in abrupt hurried accents, implored her to
withdraw the promise which forbade him to inform his benefactor how and
where his time had been spent of late. He burst forth with a declaration
of that love with which Sophy had inspired him, and which Lady Montfort
could not be but prepared to hear. "Nothing," said he, "but a respect
for her more than filial anxiety at this moment could have kept my
heart thus long silent. But that heart is so deeply pledged--so utterly
hers--that it has grown an ingratitude, a disrespect--to my generous
kinsman, to conceal from him any longer the feelings which must colour
my whole future existence. Nor can I say to her, 'Can you return my
affection?--will you listen to my vows?--will you accept them at the
altar?'--until I have won, as I am sure to win, the approving conse