nd fruit same as ever 'e did, given time. See
to the fine stock of 'im; firm as a rock in the good ground! And the
roots, they be sound and fresh. 'E'll grow again, Missy; never you
cry!"

Robinette looked so beautiful as she lifted her luminous eyes and
parted lips to old Darke, and then turned to him with a gesture of
hope and joy, that again Lavendar could hardly keep from avowing his
love; but the remembrance of the old nurse's still shape in the little
cottage hushed the words that trembled on his lips.

XXIV

GRANDMOTHER AND GRANDSON

The disagreeable duty of announcing Mrs. Prettyman's death to the lady
of the Manor now lay before Lavendar and his companion, and the
thought of it weighed upon their spirits as they crossed the river.
Carnaby also must be told. How would he take it? Robinette, still
under the shock of the plum tree's undoing, expected perhaps some
further exhibition of youthful callousness, but Lavendar knew better.

In their concern and sorrow, the young couple had forgotten all minor
matters such as meals, and luncheon had long been over when they
reached the house. They could see Mrs. de Tracy's figure in the
drawing room as they passed the windows, occupying exactly her usual
seat in her usual attitude. It was her hour for reading and
disapproving of the daily paper.

Robinette and Lavendar entered quietly, but nothing in the gravity of
their faces struck Mrs. de Tracy as strange.

"I have a disturbing piece of news to give you," Mark began, clearing
his throat. "Mrs. Prettyman died last night in her cottage at
Wittisham."

The erect figure in the widow's weeds remained motionless. Perhaps the
old hand that lowered the newspaper trembled somewhat, so that its
diamonds quivered a little more than usual.

"So Mrs. Prettyman is dead?" she said. Then, as the young people stood
looking at her with an air of some expectancy, she added with a sour
glance, "Do you expect me to be very much agitated by the news?"

"The death was unexpected," began Lavendar lamely.

"She was seventy-five; my age!" said Mrs. de Tracy with a wintry
smile. "Is death at seventy-five so unexpected an event?"

Lavendar said nothing; he had nothing to say, and Robinette for
the same reason was silent. She was gazing at her aunt, almost
unconsciously, with a wondering look. "At any rate," continued Mrs.
de Tracy, addressing her niece, "your _protegee_ has been fortunate
in two ways, Robinette. She will ne