'If I told you, you would remember it against the poor creature for life, as a deliberate insult and want of taste. Good night.' He took his hat, and went out, leaving Lucy balancing her guesses between Ensign Henniker and him whom she could not mention. Her rejection of Mr. Calthorp might have occasioned the present secrecy, and she was content to leave herself the pleasant mystery, in the hope of having it dispelled by her last glance of Kingstown quay. In that hope, she rocked herself to sleep, and next morning was so extra vivacious as to be a sore trial to poor Rashe, in the anticipation of the _peine forte et dure_ of St. George's Channel. Owen was also in high spirits, but a pattern of consideration and kind attention, as he saw the ladies on board, and provided for their comfort, not leaving them till the last moment. Lucilla's heart had beaten fast from the moment she had reached Kingstown; she was keeping her hand free to wave a most encouraging kiss, and as her eye roamed over the heads upon the quay without a recognition, she felt absolutely baffled and cheated; and gloriously as the Bay of Dublin spread itself before her, she was conscious only of wrath and mortification, and of a bitter sense of dreariness and desertion. Nobody cared for her, not even her brother! CHAPTER IX My pride, that took Fully easily all impressions from below, Would not look up, or half despised the height To which I could not, or I would not climb. I thought I could not breathe in that fine air. _Idylls of the King_ 'Can you come and take a turn in the Temple-gardens, Phoebe?' asked Robert, on the way from church, the day after Owen's visit to Woolstone-lane. Phoebe rejoiced, for she had scarcely seen him since his return from Castle Blanch, and his state of mind was a mystery to her. It was long, however, before he afforded her any clue. He paced on, grave and abstracted, and they had many times gone up and down the least frequented path, before he abruptly said, 'I have asked Mr. Parsons to give me a title for Holy Orders.' 'I don't quite know what that means.' 'How simple you are, Phoebe,' he said, impatiently; 'it means that St. Wulstan's should be my first curacy. May my labours be accepted as an endeavour to atone for some of the evil we cause here.' 'Dear Robin! what did Mr. Parsons say? Was he not very glad?' 'No; there lies the doubt.' 'Doubt?' 'Yes. He told me that he had engaged as many curates as he has means for. I answered that my stipend need be no consideration, for I only wished to spend on the parish, but he was not satisfied. Many incumbents don't like to have curates of independent means; I believe it has an amateur appearance.' 'Mr. Parsons cannot think you would not be devoted.' 'I hope to convince him that I may be trusted. It is all that is left me now.'