wealth, position-giving, and commanding
all comforts, if not luxuries. The thought
of this, and the knowledge that she would
be able to take her mother with her to
share her new home, would give Marian
the greatest pleasure. He pictured her in
that new home, bright, sunny, and cheerful;
the look of care and anxiety, the two
deep brow-lines which her face had worn
during the last year of their residence at
Helmingham, quite obliterated; the old,
cheerful, ringing tone restored to her voice,
and the earnest, steadfast, loving gaze in
her quiet eyes, and the thought almost
unmanned him. He pulled out his watch-chain,
took from it the locket containing
Marian's portrait (but a very poor specimen
of photography, taken by an "arteeste"
who had visited Helmingham in a green van
on wheels, and who both orally and in his
printed bills laid immense stress on the
fact that not merely the portrait, but a
frame and hook to hang it up by, were in
certain cases "given in"), and kissed it
tenderly. "In a very little time now, my
darling!" he murmured—"in a very little
time we shall be happy."

Pondering on his coming meeting with
Marian actively suggested the thought of the
severance of existing ties, and the parting
with the people with whom he was then
domesticated. He had been very happy, he
thought, all things considered. He was in
a bright pleasant mood, and thus indisposed
to think harshly of anything, even of Lady
Hetherington's occasional fits of temper or
insolence. Certainly Lady Hetherington
had always treated him with perfect courtesy,
and since the great day of the ice-
accident had evinced towards him a marked
partiality. As for Lady Caroline—he did
not know why his cheek should flush as he
thought of her, he felt it flush, but he did
not know why—as for Lady Caroline, she
had been a true friend, nothing could exceed
the kindness which she had shown him
from the day of his arrival among the
family, and he should always think of her
with interest and regard. It was clearly
his duty to tell Lord Hetherington of the
offer he had received, and of the chance of
his leaving his secretaryship. Or, as Lord
Hetherington was scarcely a man of business,
and as Lady Hetherington cared but
little about such matters and might not
be pleased at having them thrust under her
notice, it would be better to mention it to
Lady Caroline. She would be most
interested, and, he thought, with the flush
again rising in his face, most annoyed at
the news; though he felt sure that it was
plainly a rise in life for him, and his proper
course to pursue, and would eventually
give her pleasure. He would not wait for
the receipt of Marian's reply, there was no
need for that, his bounding heart told him,
but he would take the first opportunity that
offered of telling Lady Caroline how matters
stood, and asking her advice as to how he
should mention the fact to her brother.
That opportunity came speedily; as Joyce
was sitting in the library, his desk an island
in a sea of deeds and papers and pedigrees,
memorials of bygone Wests, his pen idly
resting in his hand, his eyes looking
steadfastly at nothing, and his brains busy with
the future, the door opened, and Lady
Caroline entered. Joyce looked up and for
the third time within an hour the flush
mounted to his face.

"I'm very sorry to disturb you, Mr.
Joyce," said her ladyship, "but I have two
or three notes for to-night's post, and the
house is so upset with this coming
departure for London, that there's not a quiet
place where one can write a line but here.
I'll sit down at West's writing-table, and
be as mute as a mouse."

"There's no occasion for silence, Lady
Caroline," replied Joyce. "I am not
specially busy just now, and indeed I was
going to ask the favour of a little conversation
with you."

"Conversation with me?" And Lady
Caroline's voice, unconsciously, perhaps,
became a little harder, her manner a little
less familiar as she spoke.

"With you, if you please. I have some
news to tell, and some advice to ask."

"I'm sure I shall be delighted to hear
the first and to give the second—that is, if
advice from me would be of any use to
you, which I very much doubt." Neither
voice nor manner were in the least relaxed,
and Lady Caroline's face was very pale and
rather hard and stern. "However," she
added, after a moment's pause, finding he
did not speak, and in a different tone,
"under present circumstances I ought to
feel very little compunction in disturbing
you, for you go to town on Wednesday,
and you know you prophesied for yourself
the strictest seclusion when once you
arrived at Hetherington House."

"That is the very matter on which I
wanted to speak to you, Lady Caroline!"

"Indeed!" said Lady Caroline, with a
rather disappointed air.

"I don't suppose that I shall ever set
foot inside Hetherington House."