drive his benefactor, her
grandsire's vindicator, from his own hearth! She--she--that Sophy who,
as a mere infant, had recoiled from the thought of playful subterfuge
and tamperings with plain honest truth! She rose before Fairthorn had
done; indeed, the tormentor, left to himself, would not have ceased till
nightfall.

"Fear not, Mr. Fairthorn," she said, resolutely; "Mr. Darrell will be
no exile! his house will not be destroyed. Lionel Haughton shall not wed
the child of disgrace! Fear not, sir; all is safe!"

She shed not a tear; nor was there writ on her countenance that CHANGE,
speaking of blighted hope, which had passed over it at her young lover's
melancholy farewell. No, now she was supported--now there was a virtue
by the side of a sorrow--now love was to shelter and save the beloved
from disgrace--from disgrace! At that thought, disgrace fell harmless
from herself, as the rain from the plumes of a bird. She passed on, her
cheek glowing, her form erect.

By the porch-door she met Waife and the Morleys. With a kind of wild
impetuosity she seized the old man's arm, and drew it fondly, clingingly
within her own. Henceforth they two were to be, as in years gone by, all
in all to each other. George Morley eyed her countenance in thoughtful
surprise. Mrs. Morley, bent as usual on saying something seasonably
kind, burst into an eulogium on her brilliant colour. So they passed on
towards the garden side of the house. Wheels--the tramp of hoofs,
full gallop; and George Morley, looking up, exclaimed: "Ha! here comes
Lionel! and see, Darrell is hastening out to welcome him!"

CHAPTER IX.

THE LETTER ON WHICH RICHARD FAIRTHORN RELIED FOR THE DEFEAT OF THE
CONSPIRACY AGAINST FAWLEY MANOR-HOUSE. BAD ASPECTS FOR HOUSES. THE
HOUSE OF VIPONT IS THREATENED. A PHYSICIAN ATTEMPTS TO MEDICINE TO
A MIND DISEASED. A STRANGE COMMUNICATION, WHICH HURRIES THE READER
ONTO THE NEXT CHAPTER.

It has been said that Fairthorn had committed to a certain letter
his last desperate hope that something might yet save Fawley from
demolition, and himself and his master from an exile's home in that
smiling nook of earth to which Horace invited Septimius, as uniting
the advantages of a mild climate, excellent mutton, capital wine; and
affording to Septimius the prospective privilege of sprinkling a tear
over the cinder of his poetical friend while the cinder was yet warm;
inducements which had no charm at all to Fairthorn