she tells me."

"Did you not know it?"

"No. I have been out shooting all day. If Sibylla mentioned it to me, I
forgot it."

Sibylla had not mentioned it. But Lionel would rather take any blame to
himself than suffer a shade of it to rest upon her.

"Mrs. Verner called yesterday, and invited us. I declined for myself. I
should have declined for Decima, but I did not think it right to deprive
Lucy of the pleasure, and she could not go alone. Ungrateful child!"
apostrophised Lady Verner. "When I told her this morning I had accepted
an invitation for her to Verner's Pride, she turned the colour of
scarlet, and said she would rather remain at home. I never saw so
unsociable a girl; she does not care to go out, as it seems to me. I
insisted upon it for this evening."

"Mother, why don't _you_ come?"

Lady Verner half turned from him.

"Lionel, you must not forget our compact. If I visit your wife now and
then, just to keep gossiping tongues quiet, from saying that Lady Verner
and her son are estranged, I cannot do it often."

"Were there any cause why you should show this disfavour to Sibylla--"

"Our compact, our compact, my son! You are not to urge me upon this
point, do you remember? I rarely break my resolutions, Lionel."

"Or your prejudices either, mother."

"Very true," was the equable answer of Lady Verner.

Little more was said. Lionel found the time drawing on, and left. Lady
Verner's carriage was already at the door, waiting to convey Decima and
Lucy Tempest to the dinner at Verner's Pride. As he was about to mount
his horse, Peckaby passed by, rolling a wheel before him. He touched his
cap.

"Well," said Lionel, "has the white donkey arrived yet?"

A contraction of anger, not, however, unmixed with mirth, crossed the
man's face.

"I wish it would come, sir, and bear her off on't!" was his hearty
response. "She's more a fool nor ever over it, a-whining and a-pining
all day long, 'cause she ain't at New Jerusalem. She wants to be in
Bedlam, sir; that's what she do! it 'ud do her more good nor t'other."

Lionel laughed, and Peckaby struck his wheel with such impetus that it
went off at a tangent, and he had to follow it on the run.

CHAPTER XLVII.

THE YEW-TREE ON THE LAWN.

The rooms were lighted at Verner's Pride; the blaze from the chandeliers
fell on gay faces and graceful forms. The dinner was over, its scene "a
banquet hall deserted"; and the guests were filling the drawing-room