ady
Sarah. But, since that, a general idea had come to prevail that the
Dean was wrong-headed, and Lady Brabazon had given in her adhesion to
Popenjoy. She had gone so far as to call at Scumberg's, and to leave a
box of bonbons.

"I hope so, Mrs. Houghton; I do hope so. Quarrels are such dreadful
things in families. Brotherton isn't, perhaps, all that he might have
been."

"Not a bad fellow, though, after all."

"By no means, Mrs. Houghton, and quite what he ought to be in
appearance. I always thought that George was very foolish."

"Lord George is foolish--sometimes."

"Very stubborn, you know, and pigheaded. And as for the Dean,--is was
great interference on his part, very great interference. I won't say
that I like foreigners myself. I should be very sorry if Brabazon were
to marry a foreigner. But if he chooses to do so I don't see why he is
to be told that his heir isn't his heir. They say she is a very worthy
woman, and devoted to him." At this moment the butler came in and
whispered a word to Mr. De Baron, who immediately got up from his
chair. "So my nephew hasn't gone," said Lady Brabazon. "That was a
message from him. I heard his name."

Her ears had been correct. The summons which Mr. De Baron obeyed had
come from the Marquis. He went upstairs at once, and found Lord
Brotherton sitting in his dressing-gown, with a cup of chocolate before
him, and a bit of paper in his hand. He did not say a word, but handed
the paper, which was a telegram, to Mr. De Baron. As the message was in
Italian, and as Mr. De Baron did not read the language, he was at a
loss. "Ah! you don't understand it," said the Marquis. "Give it me.
It's all over with little Popenjoy."

"Dead!" said Mr. De Baron.

"Yes. He has got away from all his troubles,--lucky dog! He'll never
have to think what he'll do with himself. They'd almost told me that it
must be so, before he went."

"I grieve for you greatly, Brotherton."

"There's no use in that, old fellow. I'm sorry to be a bother to you,
but I thought it best to tell you. I don't understand much about what
people call grief. I can't say that I was particularly fond of him, or
that I shall personally miss him. They hardly ever brought him to me,
and when they did, it bothered me. And yet, somehow it pinches me;--it
pinches me."

"Of course it does."

"It will be such a triumph to the Dean, and George. That's about the
worst of it. But they haven't got it yet. Though I should be