’And to do that there is only one way—­that is, to do it surely, so that I have some groundwork to enable me to keep up to the mark in my 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 visiting between our girls and the servants here, or they soon will suspect.’

Ethelberta then laid down a few laws on the subject, and, explaining the other details of her visit, told her father soon that she must leave him.

He took her along the passage and into the area.  They were standing at the bottom of the steps, saying a few parting words about Picotee’s visit to see the dinner, when a female figure appeared by the railing above, slipped in at the gate, and flew down the steps past the father and daughter.  At the moment of passing she whispered breathlessly to him, ‘Is that you, Mr. Chickerel?’

‘Yes,’ said the butler.

She tossed into his arms a quantity of wearing apparel, and adding, ‘Please take them upstairs for me—­I am late,’ rushed into the house.

‘Good heavens, what does that mean?’ said Ethelberta, holding her father’s arm in her uneasiness.

’That’s the new lady’s-maid, just come in from an evening walk—­that young scamp’s sweetheart, if what you tell me is true.  I don’t yet know what her character is, but she runs neck and neck with time closer than any woman I ever met.  She stays out at night like this till the last moment, and often throws off her dashing courting-clothes in this way, as she runs down the steps, to save a journey to the top of the house to her room before going to Mrs. Doncastle’s, who is in fact at this minute waiting for her.  Only look here.’  Chickerel gathered up a hat decked with feathers and flowers, a parasol, and a light muslin train-skirt, out of the pocket of the latter tumbling some long golden tresses of hair.