w that in a month's time," answered John Avery
rather drily.

In less than a month the news had to be sent, for a stranger arrived.
It was Mr Monke. Jennifer was delighted, except for one item. She had
announced that the stranger would be fair, and Mr Monke was dark. In
this emergency she took refuge, as human nature is apt to do, in
exaggerating the point in respect to which she had proved right, and
overlooking or slighting that whereon she had proved wrong.

"I might readily blunder in his fairness," she observed in a
self-justifying tone, "seeing it did but lie in the brightness of the
flame."

"Not a doubt thereof," responded John Avery in a tone which did not
tranquillise Jennifer.

When there happened to be no one in the hall but himself and Isoult, Mr
Monke came and stood by her as she sat at work.

"Wish me happiness, Mrs Avery," he said in a low but very satisfied
voice.

Isoult Avery was a poor guesser of riddles. She looked up with an air
of perplexed simplicity.

"Why, Mr Monke, I do that most heartily at all times," she answered.
"But what mean you?"

"That God hath given me the richest jewel He had for me," he said, in
the same tone as before.

Then Isoult knew what he meant. "Is it Frances?" she asked, speaking as
softly as he had done.

"It is that fair and shining diamond," he pursued, "known among men as
the Lady Frances Basset."

For a moment Isoult was silent, and if Mr Monke could have read the
thoughts hidden behind that quiet face, perhaps he would not have felt
flattered. For Isoult was wondering in her own mind whether she ought
to be glad or sorry. But the next moment her delicate instinct had told
her what to answer.

"Mr Monke," she said, looking up again, "I do most heartily wish
happiness to both you and her."

And Mr Monke never guessed from any thing in the quiet face what the
previous thought had been.

The next day brought a letter to Isoult from Lady Frances herself; and
the last relic of Jennifer's uneasiness was appeased by the fair hair
and beard of the messenger. She only said now that there might have
been two strangers in the fire; she ought to have looked more carefully.

All was smooth water now at Crowe. Lady Lisle had given way, but not
until Frances plainly told her that she had urged this very match
earnestly before, and now that she was reluctantly endeavouring to
conform to her wishes, had turned round to the opposing side. Philippa
was mo