They had had tea, and Nelly had been sent to the piano to play piece after piece, not one of which was listened to, for those present were intent upon their own affairs. Charley talked in a low voice to Laura, Mrs Bray dozed in an easy-chair, and Nelly kept to her music. Meanwhile the question of draining Holt Moors had been discussed and rediscussed. Farming matters had been talked over, and the state of Blandfield Park; Mr Bray strongly advising a particular breed of sheep for keeping the grass short and lawnlike, giving his opinions freely, and at the same time listening with deference to those of his old friend. At last, during a pause, Sir Philip caught Mr Bray's eye, and nodded towards the other room. "That's a picture, Bray!" he said. "Ah," said Mr Bray, as he gazed for a few moments at where--a noble-looking couple--Charley and Laura sat together in the soft light shed by the lamps, "I wish, Vining, I had had such a son. It seems hard to speak against one's own flesh and blood, but my Max--" He did not finish his sentence, but shrugged his shoulders, laughing pleasantly, as tall thin Nelly came and rested her weak loose body against his shoulder, before laying her cheek against his bald head, afterwards polishing the shiny white hemisphere with her little hand, rubbing it round and round, round and round; while, apparently approving thereof, Papa Bray drew his child upon his knee, and went on talking. But suddenly he ceased; for, rising, and with her hand in his, and one arm round her waist, Charley Vining walked with Laura towards where the old men sat, and Nelly, with the tears in her eyes, glided away to the seat just vacated. "Mr Bray--father," said Charley quietly, as he stopped in front of them, "Laura has promised to be my wife: have you any objection?" The next moment Sir Philip Vining had folded Laura in his arms, kissing her lovingly, as Mr Bray caught Charley's hands in his, shaking them warmly. "My dear boy," he exclaimed, "you make me very proud--happiest day of my life!" "Charley, my son," said Sir Philip, stretching out one hand to take his son's, and speaking in a voice that showed how he was moved, "thank you, thank you; you have made me very happy." Half an hour after, they were leave-taking; and as Charley kissed Nelly and bade her warmly "good-night," there was a tear left upon his lips. "What, little one!" he said gaily, "in trouble? What is it? You don't think I've jilted you, do you?" "Don't talk stuff, Charley!" she said gravely. "I'm very happy; but I feel like marble--just as if there were dark veins running all through me." "Marble? veins?" said Charley in a puzzled tone. "Yes; dark veins, like sorrowful thoughts; for though I'm very glad that you are going to be my own dear brother--and something like a brother too!--I can't help feeling sorry about my poor Miss Bedford."