umfrey; but youth is but a fraction of human existence,
and there were further phases to be gone through and lessons to be
learnt; although she was feeling as if all were over with her in this
world, and neither hope, love, nor protection were left her, nor any
interest save cherishing Humfrey Charlecote's memory, as she sat
designing the brass tablet which was to record his name and age in old
English illuminated letters, surrounded by a border of ears of corn and
grapes.

CHAPTER IV

The glittering grass, with dewstars bright,
Is all astir with twinkling light;
What pity that such fair array
In one brief hour should melt away.--REV. T. WHYTEHEAD

'This is a stroke of good luck!' said Mr. Charteris. 'We must not, on
any account, remove the Sandbrook children from Miss Charlecote; she has
no relations, and will certainly make the boy her heir.'

'She will marry!' said his wife. 'Some fashionable preacher will swallow
her red hair. She is just at the age for it!'

'Less likely when she has the children to occupy her.'

'Well, you'll have them thrown on your hands yet!'

'The chance is worth trying for, though! I would not interfere with her
on any account.'

'Oh, no, nor I! but I pity the children.'

* * * * *

'There, Master Owen, be a good boy, and don't worry. Don't you see, I'm
putting up your things to go home.'

'Home!' the light glittered in Lucilla's eyes. 'Is it Wrapworth,
nursey?'

'Dear me, miss, not Wrapworth. That's given away, you know; but it's to
Hiltonbury you are going--such a grand place, which if Master Owen is
only a dear good boy, will all belong to him one of these days.'

'Will there be a pony to ride on?' asked Owen.

'Oh, yes--if you'll only let those stockings alone--there'll be ponies,
and carriages, and horses, and everything a gentleman can have, and all
for my own dear little Master Owen!'

'I don't want to go to Hiltonbury,' said Lucilla; 'I want to go home to
the river and the boat, and see Mr. Prendergast and the black cow.'

'I'll give you a black cow, Cilly,' said Owen, strutting about. 'Is
Hiltonbury bigger than the castle?'

'Oh, ever so big, Master Owen; such acres of wood, Mr. Jones says, and
all your dear cousin's, and sure to be your own in time. What a great
gentleman you will be, to be sure, dining thirty gentlefolks twice a
week, as they say poor Mr. Charlecote did, and driving four fine horse