h all
the light-heartedness and spring of former days, and returning with my
bride to Walcott.

We were driving rapidly up the approach, catching glimpses at times of
the old abbey--now a gable--now some richly traceried pinnacle--some
quaint old chimney--some trellised porch. She was wild with delight, in
ecstasy at the sylvan beauty of the scene: the dark and silent wood--the
brown, clear river, beside the road--the cooing note of the wood-pigeon,
all telling of our own rural England. "Is not this better than ambition,
love?" said I. "Are not leafy groves, these moss-grown paths, more
peaceful than the high-roads of fame?" I felt her hand grasp mine
more closely, and I awoke--awoke to know that I was dreaming--that my
happiness was but a vision--my future a mere mockery.

Why should not Lucy see these scenes? She will return well and in
strength. I would that she would dwell, sometimes, at least, among the
places I have loved so much. I have often thought of making her my heir.
I have none to claim from me--none who need it. There is one clause,
however, she might object to, nay, perhaps, would certainly refuse. My
grand-uncle's will makes it imperative that the property should always
descend to a Templeton.

What if she rejected the condition? It would fall heavily on me were she
to say "No."

I will speak to Sir Gordon about this. I must choose my time, however,
and do it gravely and considerately, that he may not treat it as a mere
sick man's fancy. Of course, I only intend that she should assume the
name and arms; but this branch of the Howards are strong about pedigree,
and call themselves older than the Norfolks.

So there is no time to be lost in execution of my plan. The Favancourts
are expected here to-morrow, on their way to Naples. The very thought of
their coming is misery to me. How I dread the _persiflage_ of the beauty
"_en vogue;_" the heartless raillery that is warmed by no genial trait;
the spiritless levity that smacks neither of wit nor buoyant youth, but
is the mere coinage of the salons! How I dread, too, lest Lucy should
imitate her! she so prone to catch up a trait of manner, or a trick of
gesture! And Lady Blanche can make herself fascinating enough to be a
model. To hear once more the dull recital of that world's follies that
I have left, its endless round of tiresome vice, would be a heavy
infliction. Alas, that I should have gained no more by my experience
than to despise it! But stay