erest herself in his marriage. "Must I really speak
to Grace?" she asked, with a gentleness of tone and manner far from
characteristic, on ordinary occasions, of the lady of Mablethorpe House.
Horace saw that he had gained his point. He sprang to his feet; his eyes
turned eagerly in the direction of the conservatory; his handsome face
was radiant with hope. Lady Janet (with her mind full of his father)
stole a last look at him, sighed as she thought of the vanished days,
and recovered herself.

"Go to the smoking-room," she said, giving him a push toward the door.
"Away with you, and cultivate the favorite vice of the nineteenth
century." Horace attempted to express his gratitude. "Go and smoke!" was
all she said, pushing him out. "Go and smoke!"

Left by herself, Lady Janet took a turn in the room, and considered a
little.

Horace's discontent was not unreasonable. There was really no excuse for
the delay of which he complained. Whether the young lady had a special
motive for hanging back, or whether she was merely fretting because she
did not know her own mind, it was, in either case, necessary to come to
a distinct understanding, sooner or later, on the serious question of
the marriage. The difficulty was, how to approach the subject without
giving offense. "I don't understand the young women of the present
generation," thought Lady Janet. "In my time, when we were fond of a
man, we were ready to marry him at a moment's notice. And this is an age
of progress! They ought to be readier still."

Arriving, by her own process of induction, at this inevitable
conclusion, she decided to try what her influence could accomplish, and
to trust to the inspiration of the moment for exerting it in the right
way. "Grace!" she called out, approaching the conservatory door.
The tall, lithe figure in its gray dress glided into view, and stood
relieved against the green background of the winter-garden.

"Did your ladyship call me?"

"Yes; I want to speak to you. Come and sit down by me."

With those words Lady Janet led the way to a sofa, and placed her
companion by her side.

CHAPTER VII. THE MAN IS COMING.

"You look very pale this morning, my child."

Mercy sighed wearily. "I am not well," she answered. "The slightest
noises startle me. I feel tired if I only walk across the room."

Lady Janet patted her kindly on the shoulder. "We must try what a change
will do for you. Which shall it be? the Continent or the sea-s