profession. That way is marriage.'

'Marriage? Who are you going to marry?'

'God knows. Perhaps Lord Mountclere. Stranger things have happened.'

'Yes, so they have; though not many wretcheder things. I would sooner
see you in your grave, Ethelberta, than Lord Mountclere's wife, or the
wife of anybody like him, great as the honour would be.'

'Of course that was only something to say; I don't know the man even.'

'I know his valet. However, marry who you may, I hope you'll be happy,
my dear girl. You would be still more divided from us in that event; but
when your mother and I are dead, it will make little difference.'

Ethelberta placed her hand upon his shoulder, and smiled cheerfully.
'Now, father, don't despond. All will be well, and we shall see no such
misfortune as that for many a year. Leave all to me. I am a rare hand
at contrivances.'

'You are indeed, Berta. It seems to me quite wonderful that we should be
living so near together and nobody suspect the relationship, because of
the precautions you have taken.'

'Yet the precautions were rather Lady Petherwin's than mine, as you know.
Consider how she kept me abroad. My marriage being so secret made it
easy to cut off all traces, unless anybody had made it a special business
to search for them. That people should suspect as yet would be by far
the more wonderful thing of the two. But we must, for one thing, have no