d, "has Jan an
interest in Verner's Pride after you, or is it left to you
unconditionally? And what residence is appointed for Mrs. Verner?"

Lionel leaned over the table, apparently to reach something that was
lying on it, contriving to bring his lips close to Decima. "Go out of
the room, and take Lucy," he whispered.

Decima received the hint promptly. She rose as of her own accord. "Lucy,
let us leave mamma and Lionel alone. We will come back when your secrets
are over," she added, turning round with a smile as she left the room,
drawing Lucy with her.

"You don't speak, Lionel," impatiently cried Lady Verner. In truth he
did not; he did not know how to begin. He rose, and approached her.

"Mother, can you bear disappointment?" he asked, taking her hand, and
speaking gently, in spite of his agitation.

"Hush!" interrupted Lady Verner. "If you speak of 'disappointment' to
me, you are no true son of mine. You are going to tell me that Stephen
Verner has left nothing to me. Let me tell you, Lionel, that I would not
have accepted it--and this I made known to him. Accept money from _him_!
No. But I will accept it from my dear son,"--looking at him with a
smile--"now that he enjoys the revenues of Verner's Pride."

"It was not with money left, or not left, to you, that I was connecting
disappointment," answered Lionel. "There is a worse disappointment in
store for us than that, mother."

"A worse disappointment!" repeated Lady Verner, looking puzzled. "You
are never to be saddled with the presence of Mrs. Verner at Verner's
Pride, until her death!" she hastily added. A great disappointment, that
would have been; a grievous wrong, in the estimation of Lady Verner.

"Mother, dear, Verner's Pride is not mine."

"Not yours!" she slowly said. "He _surely_ has not done as his father
did before him?--left it to the younger brother, over the head of the
elder? He has never left it to Jan!"

"Neither to Jan nor to me. It is left to Frederick Massingbird. John
would have had it, had he been alive."

Lady Verner's delicate features became crimson; before she could speak,
they had assumed a leaden colour. "Don't play with me, Lionel," she
gasped, an awful fear thumping at her heart that he was _not_ playing
with her. "It cannot be left to the Massingbirds!"

He sat down by her side, and gave her the history of the matter in
detail. Lady Verner caught at the codicil, as a drowning man catches at
a straw.

"How could you