great favour you can
do me."

"What is it? Speak."

"Cautiously refrain from doing me a great disservice! You are going back
to your friends and relations. Never speak of me to them. Never describe
me and my odd ways. Name not the lady, nor--nor--nor--the man who
claimed Sophy.

"Your friends might not hurt me; others might. Talk travels. The hare is
not long in its form when it has a friend in a hound that gives tongue.
Promise what I ask. Promise it as 'man and gentleman.'"

"Certainly. Yet I have one relation to whom I should like, with your
permission, to speak of you, with whom I could wish you acquainted. He
is so thorough a man of the world, that he might suggest some method
to clear your good name, which you yourself would approve. My uncle,
Colonel Morley--"

"On no account!" cried Waife, almost fiercely, and he evinced so much
anger and uneasiness that it was long before George could pacify him by
the most earnest assurances that his secret should be inviolably kept,
and his injunctions faithfully obeyed. No men of the world consulted how
to force him back to the world of men that he fled from! No colonels to
scan him with martinet eyes, and hint how to pipeclay a tarnish! Waife's
apprehensions gradually allayed and his confidence restored, one fine
morning George took leave of his eccentric benefactor.

Waife and Sophy stood gazing after him from their garden-gate, the
cripple leaning lightly on the child's arm. She looked with anxious
fondness into the old man's thoughtful face, and clung to him more
closely as she looked.

"Will you not be dull, poor Grandy? will you not miss him?"

"A little at first," said Waife, rousing himself. "Education is a great
thing. An educated mind, provided that it does us no mischief,--which
is not always the case,--cannot be withdrawn from our existence without
leaving a blank behind. Sophy, we must seriously set to work and educate
ourselves!"

"We will, Grandy dear," said Sophy, with decision; and a few minutes
afterwards, "If I can become very, very clever, you will not pine so
much after that gentleman,--will you, Grandy?"

CHAPTER VI.

Being a chapter that comes to an untimely end.

Winter was far advanced when Montfort Court was again brightened by the
presence of its lady. A polite letter from Mr. Carr Vipont had reached
her before leaving Windsor, suggesting how much it would be for the
advantage of the Vipont interest if she would consent to