never know where he might be, Anthony Cardew," Miss Bride went on,
holding my hand. "One day at one end of Europe, the next at the other.
Don't think of him, child. He is better worth thinking of than most men,
but none of them are worth it. Good-bye, Bawn; be sure and write us
word of all your fine doings."

Miss Henrietta came with me to the phaeton to whisper in my ear that I
was not to mind her sister's odd views about gentlemen, because poor
Bride lived in perpetual fear that she, Miss Henrietta, might marry and
leave her.

CHAPTER XIV

THE MINIATURE

As we jogged along in the evening coolness and sweetness, we came upon
Sir Arthur Ardaragh with little Robin on his shoulder. The boy shouted
with joy when he saw me; and when I had stopped the phaeton he called
down from his height about the picnic tea father and he had had in the
fields, his little fat hand upon his father's neck while he told it.

"Robin often won't eat a good tea in the nursery," his father explained.
"I think he wants other little boys to make him eat; he eats a famous
tea when we have it together out-of-doors and travel a distance before
we have it."

"I never want other boys, dada," Robin said, "when I have you. You are
better than a brother even."

"Have you been to see Sybil?" Sir Arthur asked, recapturing the young
gentleman and lifting him again to his shoulder.

To my annoyance, I felt my cheeks grow red, but his kind, serious eyes
showed no knowledge of it. I wished they were not so far away, those
eyes, so absorbed with books and dead and gone people and dead
languages. I wished they were nearer home, took more obvious thought for
the pretty young wife whom I had sometimes imagined to be jealous of her
husband's absorption in his studies.

"I called, but I did not see Lady Ardaragh," I said.

"Ah, I suppose she had gone out. Well, good-bye, Miss Devereux. Remember
me kindly to Lord and Lady St. Leger."

A day or two later I heard my godmother mention to Lady St. Leger, when
I was not supposed to be listening, that some one had seen Anthony
Cardew. He had passed a night at Brosna, and he was off somewhere to the
South Seas--on some romantic, treasure-hunting expedition which he had
been asked to join.

"Will he never settle down?" my grandmother asked in a whisper. I
noticed that they always whispered when they mentioned the name of
Cardew, on account of my grandfather, no doubt, for he would always have
it that I