to buy the old things," gasped Emily.
"They are not cheap in these days. People have found out that they are
wanted."

"It won't cost twenty thousand pounds," Walderhurst answered. "It is a
farm-house after all, and you are a practical woman. Restore it. You
have my permission."

Emily put her hands over her eyes. This was being the Marchioness of
Walderhurst, and made Mortimer Street a thing still more incredible.
When she dropped her hands, she laughed even a trifle hysterically.

"I _couldn't_ thank you," she said. "It is as I said. I never quite
believed there were people who were able to think of doing such things."

"There are such people," he said. "You are one of them."

"And--and--" She put it to him with a sudden recollection of the thing
her emotions had momentarily swept away. "Oh! I must not forget, because
I am so pleased. When it is furnished--"

"Oh! the Osborns? Well, we will let them have it for a few months, at
any rate."

"They will be so _thankful_," emotionally. "You will be doing them
_such_ a favour."

"I am doing it for you, not for them. I like to see you pleased."

She went to take off her hat with moisture in her eyes, being
overpowered by his munificence. When she reached her room she walked
about a little, because she was excited, and then sat down to think of
the relief her next letter would carry to Mrs. Osborn. Suddenly she got
up, and, going to her bedside, knelt down. She respectfully poured forth
devout thanks to the Deity she appealed to when she aided in the
intoning of the Litany on Sundays. Her conception of this Power was of
the simplest conventional nature. She would have been astonished and
frightened if she had been told that she regarded the Omnipotent Being
as possessing many of the attributes of the Marquis of Walderhurst. This
was, in fact, true without detracting from her reverence in either case.

Chapter Ten

The Osborns were breakfasting in their unpleasant sitting-room in Duke
Street when Lady Walderhurst's letter arrived. The toast was tough and
smoked, and the eggs were of the variety labelled "18 a shilling" in the
shops; the apartment was also redolent of kippered herring, and Captain
Osborn was scowling over the landlady's weekly bill when Hester opened
the envelope stamped with a coronet. (Each time Emily wrote a note and
found herself confronting the coronet on the paper, she blushed a little
and felt that she must presently awake from her dr