ur
dinner will not be ready this three-quarters of an hour yet. I'll just
go as far as old Roy's, and have a word with Luke. I have got a top-coat
in the hall."

He went out without ceremony. Lionel walked with him to the door. It was
a fine, starlight evening. When he, Lionel, returned, Lucy was alone.
Mary Elmsley had left the room.

Lucy had quitted the chair of state she had been sitting in, and was in
her favourite place on a low stool on the hearth-rug. She was more
kneeling than sitting. The fire-light played on her sweet face, so young
and girlish still in its outlines, on her pretty hands clasped on her
knees, on her arms which glittered with pearls, on the pearls that
rested on her neck. Lionel stood on the other side of the hearth-rug,
leaning, as usual, on the mantel-piece.

At least five minutes passed in silence. And then Lucy raised her eyes
to his.

"Was it a joke, what you said to John Massingbird--about leaving
Deerham?"

"It was sober earnest, Lucy. I shall go as soon as I possibly can now."

"But why?" she presently asked.

"I should have left, as you heard me say, after Mrs. Verner's death, but
for one or two considerations. Decima very much wished me to remain
until her marriage; and--I did not see my way particularly clear to
embark in a new course of life. I do not see it yet."

"Why should you go?" asked Lucy.

"Because I--because it is expedient that I should, for many reasons," he
answered.

"You do not like to remain subservient to John Massingbird?"

"It is not that. I have got over that. My prospects have been so utterly
blighted, Lucy, that I think some of the old pride of the Verner race
has gone out of me. I do not see a chance of getting anything to do half
as good as this stewardship--as he but now called it--under John
Massingbird. But I shall try at it."

"What shall you try, do you think?"

"I cannot tell. I should like to get something abroad; I should like to
go to India. I do not suppose I have any real chance of getting an
appointment there; but stopping in Deerham will certainly not bring it
to me: that, or anything else."

Lucy's lips had parted. "You will not think of going to India now!" she
breathlessly exclaimed.

"Indeed I do think of it, Lucy."

"So far off as that!"

The words were uttered with a strange sound of pain. Lionel passed his
hand over his brow, the action betokening pain quite as great as Lucy's
tone. Lucy rose from her seat and stood