“Get a car instantly,” said she.

“For Mrs. Vavasour, my lady?  She has ordered hers already.”

“No; for Mr. Headley.  He is going to find my lord.  Frank, pour me out a cup of tea for Lucia.”

Bowie vanished, mystified.  “It’s no concern of mine; but better tak’ up wi’ a godly meenister than a godless pawet,” said the worthy warrior to himself as he marched down stairs.

“You see that I am asserting our rights already before all the world,” said she, looking up.

“I see you are not ashamed of me.”

“Ashamed of you?”

“And now I must go to Lucia.”

“And to London.”

Valencia began to cry like any baby; but rose and carried away the tea in her hand.  “Must I go? and before you come back, too?”

“Is she determined to start instantly?”

“I cannot stop her.  You see she has ordered the car.”

“Then go, my darling!  My own! my Valencia!  Oh, a thousand things to ask you, and no time to ask them in!  I can write?” said Frank, with an inquiring smile.

“Write?  Yes; every day,—­twice a day.  I shall live upon those letters.  Good-bye!” And out she went, while Frank sat himself down at the table, and laid his head upon his hands, stupefied with delight, till Bowie entered.

“The car, sir.”

“Which?  Who?” asked Frank, looking up as from a dream.

“The car, sir.”

Frank rose, and walked downstairs abstractedly.  Bowie kept close to his side.

“Ye’ll pardon me, sir,” said he in a low voice; “but I see how it is,—­ the more blessing for you.  Ye’ll be pleased, I trust, to take more care of this jewel than others have of that one:  or—­”

“Or you’ll shoot me yourself, Bowie?” said Frank, half amused, half awed, too, by the stern tone of the guardsman.  “I’ll give you leave to do it if I deserve it”

“It’s no my duty, either as a soldier or as a valet.  And, indeed, I’ve that opeenion of you, sir, that I don’t think it’ll need to be any one’s else’s duty either.”

And so did Mr. Bowie signify his approbation of the new family romance, and went off to assist Mrs. Clara in getting the trunks down stairs.

Clara was in high dudgeon.  She had not yet completed her flirtation with Mr. Bowie, and felt it hard to have her one amusement in life snatched out of her hard-worked hands.

“I’m sure I don’t know why we’re moving.  I don’t believe it’s business.  Some of his tantrums, I daresay.  I heard her walking up and down the room all last night, I’ll swear.  Neither she nor Miss Valencia have been to bed.  He’ll kill her at last, the brute!”

“It’s no concern of either of us, that.  Have ye got another trunk to bring down?”

“No concern?  Just like your hard-heartedness, Mr. Bowie.  And as soon as I’m gone, of course you will be flirting with these impudent Welshwomen, in their horrid hats.”