her's death more; but you know it has been so long expected." Then
he was silent a long time; and then he asked her if such a woman as that
would not make him happy, if he could win her.

It was on her ladyship's tongue to say, "She did not make her first
happy;" but she forbore, and said coldly, that was maw than she could
say.

Tadcaster seemed disappointed by that, and by and by Cicely took herself
to task. She asked herself what were Tadcaster's chances in the lottery
of wives. The heavy army of scheming mothers, and the light cavalry of
artful daughters, rose before her cousinly and disinterested eyes,
and she asked herself what chance poor little Tadcaster would have
of catching a true love, with a hundred female artists manoeuvring,
wheeling, ambuscading, and charging upon his wealth and titles. She
returned to the subject of her own accord, and told him she saw but one
objection to such a match: the lady had a son by a man of rare merit and
misfortune. Could he, at his age, undertake to be a father to that son?
"Othahwise," said Lady Cicely, "mark my words, you will quall over that
poor child; and you will have two to quall with, because I shall be on
her side."

Tadcaster declared to her that child should be quite the opposite of a
bone of contention. "I have thought of that," said he, "and I mean to be
so kind to that boy, I shall MAKE her love me for that."

On these terms Lady Cicely gave her consent.

Then he asked her should he write, or ask her in person.

Lady Cicely reflected. "If you write, I think she will say no."

"But if I go?"

"Then, it will depend on how you do it. Rosa Staines is a true mourner.
Whatever you may think, I don't believe the idea of a second union has
ever entered her head. But then she is very unselfish: and she likes you
better than any one else, I dare say. I don't think your title or your
money will weigh with her now. But, if you show her your happiness
depends on it, she may, perhaps, cwy and sob at the very idea of it,
and then, after all, say, 'Well, why not--if I can make the poor soul
happy?'"

So, on this advice, Tadcaster went down to Gravesend, and Lady Cicely
felt a certain self-satisfaction; for, her well-meant interference
having lost Rosa one husband, she was pleased to think she had done
something to give her another.

Lord Tadcaster came to Rosa Staines; he found her seated with her head
upon her white hand, thinking sadly of the past.

At sight of