t the moody
melancholy--Think of our gay sprightly child!"

"We will see, sir."

"We! Mistress Betty? The cost will be severe without you!"

"Nay, sir, I cannot rest without going too; you might be taken ill."

"You cannot trust a couple of old campaigners like Palmer and me? What
did we do without you?"

"Got lamed for life," said Betty, saucily. "No, I go on a pillion behind
Palmer, and my grandfather's diamond ring shall pay expenses."

"Sir Archibald's ring that he put on two baby fingers of yours when he
went off to Scotland."

"Better part with that then resign my Aurelia in the dark, uncertain
whether it be for her good."

CHAPTER XVIII. THE PROPOSAL.

Love sweetest lies concealed in night.--T. MOORE.

The Major rode up to the Great House to announce that he would only give
his answer after having conferred with both his daughter and the suitor.

With tears in her beautiful blue eyes, Lady Belamour demanded why her
dear cousin Harry could not trust the Urania he had known all her life
to decide what was for the happiness of the sweet child whom she loved
like her own.

She made him actually feel as if it were a cruel and unmerited
suspicion, but she did not over come him. "Madam," he said, "it would be
against my orders, as father of a family, to give my child away without
doing my poor best for her."

There, in spite of all obstacles suggested and all displeasure
manifested, he stuck fast, until, without choosing to wait till a shower
of sleet and rain was over. Vexation and perplexity always overset
his health, and the chill, added to them, rendered him so ill the next
morning that Betty knew there was no chance of his leaving his room for
the next month or six weeks; and she therefore sent a polite and formal
note to the Great House explaining that he could not attend to business.

This brought upon her the honour of a visit from the great lady herself.
Down came the coach-and-four, and forth from it came Lady Belamour in
a magnificent hoop, the first seen in those parts, managing it with a
grace that made her an overwhelming spectacle, in contrast with Betty,
in her close-fitting dark-grey homespun, plain white muslin apron, cap,
kerchief, and ruggles, scrupulously neat and fresh, but unadorned. The
visit was graciously designed for "good cousin Harry," but his daughter
was obliged, not unwillingly, though quite truly, to declare him far too
suffering with pain and fever.

"La