was the vicar's little lass; and hadn't she
a pair of eyes? And didn't she look like a
fairy, flying along with her black curls
streaming over her shoulders? So now,
when she had the costly flowers in her
hand, she could not resist displaying them
to the servants; and she took a creamy
spotless camellia from the outside of her
own bouquet and laid it amongst the rich
waves of her hair, and stood with a beaming
face to be admired.

Catherine was in ecstasies, and declared,
when her young mistress had gone away
again, that she liked Miss Veronica, that
she did, for she had such pleasant good-
natured ways with her.

But old Joanna smiled shrewdly, and
observed that the lass was the very moral
of her poor mother in some things; and
that a bit of show-off was the breath of her
nostrils. "Not but what," added Joanna,
"Miss Veronica has more sense in her little
finger than the poor missis had in all her
body. And a will she has—has the lass—
that's as stout as steel! A will for anything
she fancies, I mean: she can't be stubborn
and strong about doing things as is only
her duty. But if there's summat as she
wants for her own good pleasure, you'll
see she'll get it. It was the same wi'her
since she could toddle, poor lass! Many a
forbidden fruit she's aten, an' many a
stomach-ache she's had for her pains!"

CHAPTER IX. THE DINNER AT LOWATER.

VERY jolly Captain Sheardown looked,
and very radiant his wife, as they welcomed
the party from the vicarage into their warm,
well-lighted drawing-room.

"Your reverence has had a cold drive,"
said Captain Sheardown, jocularly. And
then he and the vicar, and Mr. Snowe—
who, with his son, Herbert, had arrived
not many minutes previously—stood on the
hearth-rug and talked of the weather, and
the hunting, and the Colenso controversy,
or whatsoever topic was then chiefly arousing
the attention of the British public.
Mrs. Sheardown, meanwhile, welcomed
the girls, and installed them in comfortable
arm-chairs, one on either side of her.
Nelly Sheardown was about thirty-five
years old. She had not been married more
than eight years, for she and the captain
had been constant to each other through a
long engagement; and Tom Sheardown's
head was grey before he could declare that
his fight with fortune was fought out, and
could claim Nelly Cherbrook for his wife.
He was twenty years her senior; and there
appeared to be even more difference
between their ages. For, Mrs. Sheardown
looked younger now than she had done
before her marriage, during the weary
years of waiting that had sickened the
heart with hope deferred, and graven lines
in the face.

"How is your guest?" asked Mrs.
Sheardown of Veronica.

"Sir John is getting much better: nearly
well, thank you. It is such a comfort for
papa to feel assured that all danger is over.
It was a great responsibility, you know,
having a total stranger in the house in that
state;" thus, Veronica.

"None of his relations came to see him?"

"He has lived abroad, and has no family
ties in England, Mrs. Sheardown."

"Poor old man! It is a lonely position
for him."

Veronica gave a rapid glance at her
hostess's honest face, and then buried her
own amongst her flowers.

Maud laughed heartily. "Dear Mrs.
Sheardown," she said, "do you know I
have a notion that Sir John Gale does not by
any means look upon himself in that light."

"In what light?"

"As a 'lonely old man.' "

"Oh! I thought—I didn't know—"

"Lady Alicia Renwick," cried Captain
Sheardown's old servant, throwing open
the door. And the hostess rose and went to
welcome the new arrival.

Lady Alicia Renwick was the daughter
of a Scotch peer, and the widow of a gentleman
who had made a large fortune in some
ironworks. Still further to the south
than Danecester, was a great black
district whose horizon glared at night with
a hundred lurid fires. And there the
deceased Mr. Renwick had owned strange-
looking brick structures, like pyramids
with the angles rounded off, and with
smoke and flame issuing from their
summits. Lady Alicia did not inherit all the
gold that was melted out of the iron-ore
in these grimy crucibles. Mr. Renwick
had a numerous family by a former wife,
and had provided for them all, handsomely.
But his relict enjoyed an income which
would have appeared princely in her
maiden eyes, and which she now
characterised as "genteel starvation." For there
is nothing we become more easily accustomed
to, than the possession of riches.
And a genuine love of money is one of the
few passions that age, with its hollow
voice crying "All is vanity!" has no power
to weaken.