er would talk about it to me; but he was quite ill while he thought
the Marquis was in danger."

"I don't believe the Marquis was much the worse for it."

"They said he was, and papa for some time could not get over it. Now he
is elated. I wish he would not be so glad because that poor little boy
has died."

"It makes a great difference to him, Lady George;--and to you."

"Of course it makes a difference, and of course I feel it. I am as
anxious for my husband as any other woman. If it should come fairly, as
it were by God's doing, I am not going to turn up my nose at it."

"Is not this fairly?"

"Oh yes. Papa did not make the little boy die, of course. But I don't
think that people should long for things like this. If they can't keep
from wishing them, they should keep their wishes to themselves. It is
so like coveting other people's goods. Don't you think we ought to keep
the commandments, Captain De Baron?"

"Certainly--if we can."

"Then we oughtn't to long for other people's titles."

"If I understand it, the Dean wanted to prevent somebody else from
getting a title which wasn't his own. That wouldn't be breaking the
commandment."

"Of course I am not finding fault with papa. He would not for worlds
try to take anything that wasn't his,--or mine. But it's so sad about
the little boy."

"I don't think the Marquis cared for him."

"Oh, he must have cared! His only child! And the poor mother;--think
how she must feel."

"In spite of it all, I do think it's a very good thing that he's dead,"
said Jack, laughing.

"Then you ought to keep it to yourself, sir. It's a very horrid thing
to say so. Wouldn't you like to smoke a cigar? You may, you know. Papa
always smokes out here, because he says Mr. Groschut can't see him."

"Mr. Groschut is at Rudham," said Jack, as he took a cigar out of his
case and lit it.

"At Rudham? What promotion!"

"He didn't seem to me to be a first-class sort of a fellow."

"Quite a last-class sort of fellow, if there is a last class. I'll tell
you a secret, Captain De Baron. Mr. Groschut is my pet abomination. If
I hate anybody, I hate him. I think I do really hate Mr. Groschut. I
almost wish that they would make him bishop of some unhealthy place."

"So that he might go away and die?"

"If the mosquitoes would eat him day and night, that would be enough.
Who else was there at Rudham?"

"Mrs. Montacute Jones."

"Dear Mrs. Jones. I do like Mrs. Jones."

"And Adelaid