This continued until early spring.  In February Sibylla fixed her heart upon a visit to London.  “Of course,” she told Lionel, “he would treat her to a season in town.”  She had never been to London in her life to stay.  For Sibylla to fix her heart upon a thing, was to have it; Lionel was an indulgent husband.

To London they proceeded in February.  And there the cost was great.  Sibylla was not one to go to work sparingly in any way; neither, in point of fact, was Lionel.  Lionel would never have been unduly extravagant; but, on the other hand, he was not accustomed to spare.  A furnished house in a good position was taken; servants were imported to it from Verner’s Pride; and there Sibylla launched into all the follies of the day.  At Easter she “set her heart” upon a visit to Paris, and Lionel acquiesced.  They remained there three weeks; Sibylla laying in a second stock of toilettes for Mademoiselle Benoite to rule over; and then they went back to London.

The season was prolonged that year.  The House sat until August, and it was not until the latter end of that month that Mr. and Mrs. Verner returned to Verner’s Pride.  Though scarcely home a week yet, the house was filled again—­filled to overflowing; Lionel can hear sounds of talking and laughter from the various rooms, as he bends over his table.  He was opening his letters, three or four of which lay in a stack.  He had gone out in the morning before the post was in.

Tynn knocked at the door and entered, bringing a note.

“Where’s this from?” asked Lionel, taking it from the salver.  Another moment, and he had recognised the handwriting of his mother.

“From Deerham Court, sir.  My lady’s footman brought it.  He asks whether there is any answer.”

Lionel opened the note, and read as follows:—­

“MY DEAR LIONEL,—­I am obliged to be a beggar again.  My expenses seem to outrun my means in a most extraordinary sort of way.  Sometimes I think it must be Decima’s fault, and tell her she does not properly look after the household.  In spite of my own income, your ample allowance, and the handsome remuneration received for Lucy, I cannot make both ends meet.  Will you let me have two or three hundred pounds?

    “Ever your affectionate mother,

    “LOUISA VERNER.”

“I will call on Lady Verner this afternoon, Tynn.”

Tynn withdrew with the answer.  Lionel leaned his brow upon his hand; the weary expression terribly plain just then.

“My mother shall have it at once—­no matter what my own calls may be,” was his soliloquy.  “Let me never forget that Verner’s Pride might have been hers all these years.  Looking at it from our own point of view, my father’s branch in contradistinction of my uncle’s, it ought to have been hers.  It might have been her jointure-house now, had my father lived, and so willed it.  I am glad to help my mother,” he continued, an earnest glow lighting his face.  “If I get embarrassed, why, I must get embarrassed; but she shall not suffer.”