Captain Duchesne did not seem slow to avail himself of the favor accorded to him. He presented himself at Ethel's next "at home;" and devoted himself to her with curious assiduity. Even the discovery of her engagement to Mr. Trent did not change his manner. It was not so much that he paid her actual attention, as that he paid none to anybody else. When she was not talking to him, he kept silence. He seemed always to be observing her, her face, her manner, her dress, her attitude. Yet this kind of observation was quite respectful and unobtrusive: it was merely its continuity that excited remark. Oliver noticed it at last, and professed himself jealous: in fact he was a little bit jealous, although he did not love Ethel overmuch. But he had a pride of possession in her which would not allow him to look with equanimity on the prospect of her being made love to by anybody else. Ethel enjoyed the attentions, and enjoyed Oliver's jealousy, in her usual spirit of childlike gaiety. She was quite assured of Oliver's affection for her now; and she looked forward with shy delight to the day of her wedding, which had been fixed for the twentieth of March. Meanwhile, Oliver was devoured with secret anxiety. For what had become of Francis, and when would he appear to demand the money which had been promised to him on the day when the marriage should take place? CHAPTER XXIV. MR. BROOKE'S DESIRES. Lady Alice's movements were not without interest to Caspar Brooke, although Lesley did not suspect the fact. It was quite a surprise to her when he entered the library one day, with apparently no other object than that of saying abruptly, "What is your mother going to do, Lesley?" "To do?" said Lesley, flushing slightly and looking astonished. "Yes"--impatiently. "Where is she going to live? What will become of her? Do you want to go to her? I wish to hear what you know about her arrangements." He planted himself on the hearth-rug in what might be termed an aggressive attitude--really the expression of some embarrassment of feeling. It certainly seemed hard to him at that moment to have to ask his daughter these questions. "I think," said Lesley, with downcast eyes, "that she is trying to find a house to suit her in Mayfair." "Mayfair. Then half her income will go in rent and taxes. Will she live there alone?" "Yes. At least--unless--until----" "Until you join her: I understand. Will"--and then he made a long pause before continuing--"if she wants you to join her at once; and you wish to go, don't let this previous arrangement stand in the way. I shall not interfere." His curtness, his abruptness, would once have startled and terrified Lesley. She had of late grown so much less afraid of him, that now she only lifted her eyes, with a proud, grieving look in them, and said, "Do you want me to go away, then?"