‘My love, that is simply childish,’ exclaimed Mr. Elgood. ‘Let me act for you, Justina; trust me to deal generously with the Squire and his wife.’ ‘I will trust you,’ she answered, looking up at him with perfect faith and love. ‘Trust me in this and in all things. You shall not find me unworthy of your confidence.’ And this was all that was said about the Penwyn estate. Maurice spent the rest of the day with Justina, took her to Westminster Abbey in the afternoon to hear a great preacher, and walked with her afterwards in the misty groves of St. James’s Park, and then and there, feeling that he was now free to open his heart to her, told her in truest, tenderest words, how the happiness of his future life was bound up in her; how, rich or poor, she was dearer to him than all the world beside. And so, in the London fog and gloom, under the smoky metropolitan trees, they plighted their troth—Justina ineffably happy. ‘I thought you did not care for me,’ she said, when all had been told. ‘I thought you only cared for James Penwyn’s memory,’ answered Maurice. ‘Poor James! That love was like a midsummer night’s dream.’ ‘And this is reality?’ ‘Yes.’ He held her to his beating heart under the autumnal trees, and kissed her with the kiss of betrothal. ‘My love! my dearest! my truest! my best!—what is wealth or position, or all this bitter world can give and take away, measured against love like ours?’ And after this homily, which Justina remembered a great deal better than the great preacher’s sermon, they turned their faces homewards, and arrived just in time to prevent the utter ruin of the dinner, which their tardiness had imperilled. ‘You wouldn’t have liked to see a pretty little bit of beef like that reduced to the condition of a deal board, now, would you?’ asked Mr. Elgood, pointing to the miniature sirloin. Maurice and Justina interchanged smiles. They were thinking that they would be content to dine upon deal boards henceforward, so long as they dined together. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ CHAPTER XIII ‘NOT AS A CHILD SHALL WE AGAIN BEHOLD HER.’ Maurice Clissold went back to Cornwall next day, with full powers, so far as Justina’s interests were concerned. Her greatest anxiety was to see the unhappy mother from whom she had been severed since the hour of her birth; but to bring about a meeting between these two was not the easiest thing in the world. Other interests were at stake. The Albert Theatre could not get on without Justina, or so the manager affirmed; and Justina’s engagement was for the entire season. No breaking it, save by forfeiture of reputation with the public, and at the hazard of a lawsuit.