o amuse herself."

Whatever assurances Mary might have made or have declined to make in
answer to this were stopped by the entrance of a servant, who came to
inform Lady George that her father was below. The Dean too had received
his telegram, and had at once ridden over to greet the new Marchioness
of Brotherton.

Of all those who first heard the news, the Dean's feelings were by far
the strongest. It cannot be said of any of the Germains that there was
sincere and abiding grief at the death of the late Marquis. The poor
mother was in such a state, was mentally so weak, that she was in truth
no longer capable of strong grief or strong joy. And the man had been,
not only so bad but so injurious also, to all connected with him,--had
contrived of late to make his whole family so uncomfortable,--that he
had worn out even that enduring love which comes of custom. He had been
a blister to them,--assuring them constantly that he would ever be a
blister; and they could not weep in their hearts because the blister
was removed. But neither did they rejoice. Mary, when, in her simple
language, she had said that she did not want it, had spoken the plain
truth. Munster Court, with her husband's love and the power to go to
Mrs. Jones' parties, sufficed for her ambition. That her husband should
be gentle with her, should caress her as well as love her, was all the
world to her. She feared rather than coveted the title of Marchioness,
and dreaded that gloomy house in the Square with all her heart. But to
the Dean the triumph was a triumph indeed and the joy was a joy! He had
set his heart upon it from the first moment in which Lord George had
been spoken of as a suitor for his daughter's hand,--looking forward to
it with the assured hope of a very sanguine man. The late Marquis had
been much younger than he, but he calculated that his own life had been
wholesome while that of the Marquis was the reverse. Then had come the
tidings of the Marquis' marriage. That had been bad;--but he had again
told himself how probable it was that the Marquis should have no son.
And then the Lord had brought home a son. All suddenly there had come
to him the tidings that a brat called Popenjoy,--a brat who in life
would crush all his hopes,--was already in the house at Manor Cross! He
would not for a moment believe in the brat. He would prove that the boy
was not Popenjoy, though he should have to spend his last shilling in
doing so. He had set his hea