had worn a certain air of depression, or perhaps more truly of
failure and perplexity, which kept before her conscious mind the
Desdichado on Ivanhoe's shield, even when he was a gentleman at ease at
the luxurious Rectory; but there was now not only the settled air of a
man who had found his vocation, but something of the self-respect and
eagerness of one who was doing it well, and feeling himself valued.

'Is baby--' he began. 'Oh, Nuttie! Are you there? Mr. Dutton told me
you were coming. How is my uncle?' And the voice was much brisker
than in the days of lawn-tennis.

'Father, father, look!' cried the boy.

'Why, Billy-boy, you are set up! Zouaves and chasseurs! I see where
they came from.'

During the mixture of greetings and inquiries, admiration of the
flowers, and the exhibition of Billy's treasures, Annaple glided away,
and presently placed before him a tray, daintily benapkinned and set
forth with a little cup of soup.

'Baby is really asleep, and Emily as proud as a Hielandman,' she said.
'Now eat this, without more ado, for that good Nuttie is going to set
you down at Charing Cross.'

'This is the way we spoil our husbands, Nuttie,' said Mark. 'Refections
served up at every turn.'

'Only bones! The immortal pot au feu,' said Annaple. 'And you are to
go on after you have interviewed your man of steel, and have tea with
Nuttie, and pay your respects to your uncle, like a dutiful nephew.'

'No, that I can't, Nannie; I promised Dobbs to go and see a man for
him, and I must come back as soon as I can after that.'

He looked--as to figure and air--much more like his old self when he
had changed his coat. They fed him, almost against his will, with a
few of the forced strawberries Nuttie had brought. Billy pressed on
him wonders from a Paris bonbon box, and Annaple fastened a rose and a
pink in his button-hole, and came down to the street door with her boy
to see him off.

'What do you think of her?' was Mark's first inquiry.

'Think! As Mr. Dutton said long ago, never was braver lady!'

'Never was there a truer word! I meant as to her health? As to
courage, spirits, and temper, there is no question; I never saw them
fail; but are they not almost too much for the frame?' he asked
anxiously.

It echoed Nuttie's fear, but she tried to frame a cheerful answer. 'She
is very thin, but she seems well.'

'She never complains, but I am sure her strength is not what it was.
She cannot walk ou