ose of them by
pensions or emigration, but she could not bear to KNOW IT HERSELF!
She never could be happy as the mistress of Scrooby Priory with that
knowledge; she did not idealize it as a principle! Carefully weighing it
by her own practical common sense, she said to herself that "it wouldn't
pay." The highest independence is often akin to the lowest selfishness;
she did not dream that the same pride which kept her grandfather from
the workhouse and support by his daughters, and had even kept him from
communicating with his own son, now kept her from acknowledging them,
even for the gift of a title and domain. There was only one question
before her: should she stay long enough to receive the proposal of Lord
Algernon, and then decline it? Why should she not snatch that single
feminine joy out of the ashes of her burnt-up illusion? She knew that an
opportunity would be offered that afternoon. The party were to take tea
at Broxby Hall, and Lord Algernon was to drive her there in his dogcart.
Miss Desborough had gone up to her bedroom to put on a warmer cloak, and
had rung twice or thrice impatiently for her maid.

When the girl made her appearance, apologetic, voluble, and excited,
Miss Desborough scarcely listened to her excuses, until a single word
suddenly arrested her attention. It was "old Debs."

"What ARE you talking about?" said Sadie, pausing in the adjustment of
her hat on her brown hair.

"Old Debs, miss,--that's what they call him; an old park-keeper, just
found dead in a pool of water in the fields; the grandfather of one of
the servants here; and there's such an excitement in the servants' hall.
The gentlemen all knew it, too, for I heard Lord Algernon say that
he was looking very queer lately, and might have had a fit; and Lord
Beverdale has sent word to the coroner. And only think, the people here
are such fools that they daren't touch or move the poor man, and him
lyin' there in the rain all the time, until the coroner comes!"

Miss Desborough had been steadily regarding herself in the glass to see
if she had turned pale. She had. She set her teeth together until
the color partly returned. But she kept her face away from the maid.
"That'll do," she said quietly. "You can tell me all later. I have some
important news myself, and I may not go out after all. I want you to
take a note for me." She went to her table, wrote a line in pencil,
folded it, scribbled an address upon it, handed it to the girl,