you leave us a little, my dear? Not
that we have any secrets from you: but he will speak more freely, if he
is alone with me."

"I should have known that, mamma, without being told."

"Dear Chatty, you must not be displeased. You know many things more than
I had ever thought."

"Displeased, mamma!"

"Hush, Chatty, here is my poor boy."

Her poor boy! the triumphant lover, the young man at the height of his
joy and pride. They both rose to meet him, eager, watching to take the
tone which should be most in harmony with his. But Mrs. Warrender had a
pity in her heart for Theo which she did not feel for Chatty--perhaps
because in her daughter's case her sympathy was more complete.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

Warrender met his mother and sister with a face somewhat cloudy, which,
however, he did his best to clear as he came in, in response to their
pleasure at the sight of him. It did not become him in his position to
look otherwise than blessed: but a man has less power of recognising
and adapting himself to this necessity than a woman. He did his best,
however, to take an interest in the house, to have all its conveniencies
pointed out to him, and the beauty of the view over the garden, and the
coolness of the drawing-room in which they sat. What pleased him still
more, however, or at least called forth a warmer response, was the
discovery of some inconveniencies which had already been remarked. "I am
very glad you told me," he said. "I must have everything put right for
you, mother. A thing that can be put right by bricks and mortar is so
easy a matter."

"It is the easiest way, perhaps, of setting things right," she said, not
without an anxious glance; "but even bricks and mortar are apt to lead
you further than you think. You remember Mr. Briggs, in _Punch_?"

"They will not lead me too far," said Theo. "I am all in the way of
renovation and restoration. You should see--or rather, you should not
see, for I am afraid you would be shocked--our own house----"

"What are you doing? No, I should not be shocked. I never was a devotee
of the Warren. I always thought there were a great many improvements I
could make."

"Oh, mamma!"

"You must remember, Chatty, I was not born to it, like you. What are you
doing? Are you building? Your letters are not very explicit, my dear."

"You shall see. I cannot describe. I have not the gift." Here the cloud
came again over Theo's face, the cloud which he had pushed back on hi