word into
her ear. She gave an exclamation of delight; and as the tears came
into her eyes congratulated him with a kiss. "Oh dear, oh dear! I am
so happy!" she exclaimed.

"Hush--sh," he whispered. "I knew how it would be if I told you."

"But they will all know to-morrow, will they not?"

"Leave that to me. You have coaxed me out of my secret, and you
are bound to keep it." And then he went away well pleased. This
description of delight on his sister's part was the first instalment
of that joy which he had promised himself from the satisfaction of
his family.

Lady Fitzgerald had watched all that had passed, and had already
learned her mistake--her mistake in that she had prophesied that no
immediate proposal was likely to be made by her son. She now knew
well enough that he had made such a proposal, and that he had been
accepted.

And this greatly grieved her. She had felt certain from the few
slight words which Sir Thomas had spoken that there were valid
reasons why her son should not marry a penniless girl. That
conversation, joined to other things, to the man's visit, and her
husband's deep dejection, had convinced her that all was not right.
Some misfortune was impending over them, and there had been that in
her own early history which filled her with dismay as she thought of
this.

She had ardently desired to caution her son in this respect,--to
guard him, if possible, against future disappointment and future
sorrow. But she could not do so without obtaining in some sort her
husband's assent to her doing so. She resolved that she would talk it
over with Sir Thomas. But the subject was one so full of pain, and he
was so ill, and therefore she had put it off.

And now she saw that the injury was done. Nevertheless, she said
nothing either to Emmeline or to Herbert. If the injury were done,
what good could now result from talking? She doubtless would hear it
all soon enough. So she sat still, watching them.

On the following morning Sir Thomas did not come out to breakfast.
Herbert went into his room quite early, as was always his custom; and
as he left it for the breakfast-parlour he said, "Father, I should
like to speak to you just now about something of importance."

"Something of importance, Herbert; what is it? Anything wrong?" For
Sir Thomas was nervous, and easily frightened.

"Oh dear, no; nothing is wrong. It is nothing that will annoy you; at
least I think not. But it will keep till after b