The thought was of Luke Ross, which was agitating them both, for they were thinking of the day when they would have to face him, and give account of that which had been done; and as this dark shadow loomed up in the distance, the question arose-- What shall I say? Cyril did not put in an appearance that day, and Mr and Mrs Mallow had their visitor entirely to themselves, with the result that when it was time for her to go, all thoughts of pride and differences in caste were gone, Mrs Mallow kissing her very affectionately. "I can't come to you, my dear; but you will come to me often--very often--promise me that." The answer trembled upon Sage's lips. It was "Yes," but she hardly dared to utter it, and it was taken from her. "I will say it," said the Rector. "Yes; she will come very often. Sage, my child, I never thought of this, but the future is hidden from all our eyes. You have been here to-day to see us in the character of the woman our son has chosen for his wife. Heaven's blessing be on you, my child; he could not have made a worthier choice." Sage placed her hands in his, and once more he drew her to his breast, and kissed her broad white forehead. "There," he said cheerily, and with a smile, "kiss mamma, and then I'll trot down home with you, for it is too dark for you to go alone. I think, mamma, dear, we'll set aside all form and ceremony from now. What do you say?" "Oh yes, yes. Let there be no scruples to keep you away, my dear. Of course," she added, smiling, "you will come to see this poor invalid. Come and read to me as often as you can, for my daughters are beginning to forsake me a great deal now. Ah! you young people, you get strange fancies in your heads. You promise?" She promised, and soon after the Rector was taking her home, chatting to her pleasantly, as if there was to be no more constraint; but all the same he could not help thinking about him who filled his companion's thoughts, to the exclusion of Cyril. How was Luke Ross to be met? And at the same time, the fond mother, lying upon her couch, had her shadows to darken the happy thoughts that were brightening her life. Was it just to Sage Portlock to let her become the wife of such a son as hers? She trembled and grew agitated at the thoughts, which were cleared away as Cyril suddenly entered the room. "Here, I say," he cried, "what does this mean?" "What does what mean?" said Mrs Mallow, smiling affectionately. "They say down-stairs that Sage--Miss Portlock--has been here." "Yes, my son, and she has just gone back with your father. Come and sit down by me, Cyril." If her words were heard, they were not attended to, for Cyril darted down the stairs and out of the house, leaving Mrs Mallow to sigh, and, as a despondent fit came on, to wonder whether they had done right after all. PART ONE, CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. AT THE TURNING.