matter was so serious, that he was," said Lady Sarah, "bound to
lend the strength of his presence to his mother and sisters." But on
the fourth morning Lady Sarah sent over a note to her brother, the
Marquis.

"DEAR BROTHERTON,--We hope that you and your wife and little boy
have arrived well, and have found things comfortable. Mamma is
most anxious to see you,--as of course we all are. Will you not
come over to us to-day. I dare say my sister-in-law may be too
fatigued to come out as yet. I need not tell you that we are very
anxious to see your little Popenjoy.

"Your affectionate Sister,

"SARAH GERMAIN."

It may be seen from this that the ladies contemplated peace, if peace
were possible. But in truth the nature of the letter, though not the
words, had been dictated by the Marchioness. She was intent upon seeing
her son, and anxious to acknowledge her grandchild. Lady Sarah had felt
her position to be very difficult, but had perceived that no temporary
acceptance by them of the child would at all injure her brother
George's claim, should Lord George set up a claim, and so, in deference
to the old lady, the peaceful letter was sent off, with directions to
the messenger to wait for an answer. The messenger came back with
tidings that his Lordship was in bed. Then there was another
consultation. The Marquis, though in bed, had of course read the
letter. Had he felt at all as a son and a brother ought to feel, he
would have sent some reply to such a message. It must be, they felt,
that he intended to live there and utterly ignore his mother and
sisters. What should they do then? How should they be able to live? The
Marchioness surrendered herself to a paroxysm of weeping, bitterly
blaming those who had not allowed her to go away and hide herself in
some distant obscurity. Her son, her eldest son, had cast her off
because she had disobeyed his orders! "His orders!" said Lady Sarah, in
scorn, almost in wrath against her mother. "What right has he to give
orders either to you or us? He has forgotten himself, and is only
worthy to be forgotten." Just as she spoke the Manor Cross phaeton,
with the Manor Cross ponies, was driven up to the door, and Lady
Amelia, who went to the window, declared that Brotherton himself was in
the carriage. "Oh, my son; my darling son," said the Marchioness,
throwing up her arms.

It really was the Marquis. It seemed to the ladies to be a very long
ti