in
her wedded days, and that this loving fancy of hers was not likely
to be realised; but I allowed her to cherish it--time enough for our
parting when it needs must come. My youth had been brightened by her
love; and I should be brave enough to face the world alone when she
began her new life, assured that in my day of trouble I should
always find a haven in her affection.

They were to be married in the following spring. Mr. Egerton had
pleaded hard for an earlier date; but Milly would not diminish her
year of mourning for her father, and he was fain to submit. The
appointed time was advanced from April to February. He was to take
his young wife abroad, and to show her all those scenes in which his
wandering life had been spent; and then they were to return to
Cumber, and Milly was to begin her career as the wife of a country
squire.

Julian Stormont came to Thornleigh, and heard of the engagement from
Mrs. Darrell. He still occupied his old position in the business at
North Shields, which had been bought by a great capitalist in the
iron way. He received the news of Milly's betrothal very quietly;
but he proffered her no congratulations upon the subject. I happened
to be on the terrace alone with him one morning during his stay,
waiting for Milly to join me, when he spoke to me about this
business.

'So my cousin is going to throw herself away upon that man?' he
said.

'You must not call it throwing herself away, Mr. Stormont,' I
answered; 'Mr. Egerton is devoted to your cousin, and the change in
his circumstances makes him a very good match for her.'

'The change in his circumstances has not changed the man,' he
returned in an angry tone. 'No good can come of such a marriage.'

'You have no right to say that, Mr. Stormont.'

'I have the right given me by conviction. A happy marriage!--no, it
will not be a happy marriage, be sure of that!'

He said this with a vindictive look that startled me, well as I knew
that he could not feel very kindly towards Milly's lover. The words
might mean little, but to me they sounded like a threat.

CHAPTER XI.

DANGER.

The summer that year was a divine one, and we spent the greater part
of our lives out of doors, driving, walking, sitting about the
garden sometimes until long after dark. It was weather in which it
was a kind of treason against Nature to waste an hour in the house.

We went very often for long rambles in Cumber Wood, winding up with
an aftern