tances, we should not have differed for a moment as to the
course it behooved me to follow."

Dyce had never heard himself speak so magnanimously; he smiled with
pleasure, and continued in a peculiarly suave voice.

"I am sure Miss Tomalin will find in you a steadfast friend."

"I shall do what I can for her, of course," was the rather dry answer.
"At the same time, I hold to my view of Miss Bride's responsibility.
The girl has really nothing to live upon; a miserable hundred a year;
all very well when she belonged to the family at Northampton, but
useless now she is adrift. To tell you the truth, I shall wait with no
little curiosity for Miss Bride's--and your--decision."

"Need I say that Miss Bride will be absolutely free to take any step
she likes?"

"How could I doubt it?" exclaimed the lady, with her most expressive
smile. "Do you allow me to make known the--the renewal of your
engagement?"

"Certainly," Dyce answered, beaming upon her.

Mrs. Toplady rose.

"I am so happy to have been the first to bring you the news. But it a
little surprises me that you had not learnt it already from Miss Bride,
who knew all about the will two days ago."

"Why should it surprise you?" said Lashmar, gently, as he took her
hand. "Naturally I have kept away from Rivenoak, supposing Miss Tomalin
to be still there; and Miss Bride was not likely to be in haste to
communicate a piece of news which, strictly speaking, hardly concerns
me at all."

"Be sure you come to see me when you are in town," were Mrs. Toplady's
last words.

And her eyes twinkled with appreciation of Lashmar's demeanour.

CHAPTER XXVI

Dyce walked about the room. Without knowing it, he sang softly to
himself. His countenance was radiant.

So, after all, Constance would be his wife. One moment's glimpse of a
dread possibility that neither she nor May Tomalin benefited by Lady
Ogram's will had sufficed to make him more than contented with the
actual issue of his late complications. He had seen himself overwhelmed
with disaster, reduced to the alternative of withdrawing into
ignominious obscurity or of again seeking aid from Mrs. Woolstan, aid
which might or not be granted, and in any case would only enable him to
go through with the contest at Hollingford, a useless effort if he had
nothing henceforth to live upon. As it was, he saw Constance and
seventy thousand pounds, with the prosperous little paper-mill to boot.
He did not love Constance