ither fish, flesh, nor fowl, though as for Miss Constance, she
was a lady all over, and always had been, and there might have been hopes
for Mr. Herbert, if only he could have got into the army.

To sit with Mr. Rollstone, whom the last winter's rheumatics had left
very infirm, was Eden's chief afternoon employment, as she could not
follow her charge's wanderings on the beach, but had to leave him to the
nursery-maid, Ellen. The old butler wanted much to show 'Miss Eden' his
daughter, who took advantage of Whit-Sunday and the Bank-holiday to run
down and see her parents, though at the next quarter she was coming home
for good, extremely sorry to leave her advantages in London, and the
friends she had made there, but feeling that her parents needed her so
much that she must pursue her employment at home.

They were all very anxious on that Whit-Sunday, and Rose carried with her
something of Constance's feeling, as with tears in her eyes she looked at
the little fellow at the children's service, standing by his nurse, with
wide open, inquiring eyes, chiefly fixed upon Willie Lincoln in
satisfaction whenever an answer proceeded from that object of his
unrequited attachment. With the young maiden's love of revelling in
supposed grief, Rose already pitied the fair-faced, unconscious child as
fatherless, and weighted with heavy responsibilities.

Another pair of eyes looked at the boy, not with pity, but indignant
impatience.

Perhaps even already that little pretender was the only obstacle between
Herbert and the coronet that was his by right, between Ida herself and--

Ida had walked from the school to the church with Mr. Deyncourt, and he
had talked so gently and pitifully of the family distress, and assumed so
much grief on her part, that his sympathy made her heart throb; above
all, when he told her that his two sisters were coming to stay with him,
Mrs. Rollstone had contrived to make room for them, and they would show
her, better than he could, some of the plans he wished to have carried
out with the little children.

So he wished to introduce her to his sisters! What did that mean? If
the Deyncourts were ever so high they could not sneer at Lord Northmoor's
sisters.

Then she thought of many a novel, and in real life, of what she believed
respecting that lost lover of Miss Morton's. And later in the day Tom
Brady lounged up to Northmoor Cottage, and leaning with one elbow on the
window-sill, while the othe