"I own it," he replied. "You will never say again of me that I do not know what fear is." Mrs. Fitzpatrick gave him a grateful smile. She could easily understand on whose account he had been alarmed. "I am afraid you were by no means _quitte pour le peur_," said Aveline helping herself to salad. "Only think, mamma, of his throwing the wretch his purse. So extravagant." "Very wrong, indeed," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "But when one gets frightened," said he, laughing, "what is to be done? When my servant asks me what has become of my purse, I must say I was stopped by a foot-pad." "Will your servant call you to account?" asked Aveline, opening wide her large eyes at the idea of any one taking Mr. Haveloc to task. "I should not wonder. He is a very old servant, and says and does pretty much what he pleases." "How I should like to hear you go on together," said Aveline with a smile. "Oh! it seldom amounts to a duet. He generally unburdens his mind at night; and when I am tired of saying yes, and no, I fall asleep, and so escape the end of the lecture." "I should like to know, if it was not indiscreet, what the lectures were about?" "Generally financial. If he thinks I have paid more for a horse than it is worth, it is a long time before he gets over it. He was very much shocked when I bought that plague of a yacht; and at Rome he was a perpetual torment. I could hardly look at a picture, or a cameo, without his hinting that I should end my career in the Queen's Bench." "But that shows a great deal of attachment," said Aveline; "one sees too little of that feeling in these days. But we are very fortunate. Mrs. Grant was a treasure." "Shall I come to-morrow, Mrs. Fitzpatrick?" said Mr. Haveloc rising. "Miss Fitzpatrick meets with nothing but misfortunes when I have the charge of her." "Oh, come!" said Aveline, "by all means; and leave the pony here. Mark said he could accommodate him, and it will be something for me to pet. I shall feed myself to-morrow." "There Aveline, you must not sit up any longer," said Mrs. Fitzpatrick. "I am all obedience," said Aveline rising. "Good night, Mr. Haveloc, I hope you will not meet our gipsy on your way home." CHAPTER IX. Our joys are kin to griefs--in time shall cease The term of soundest health: disease Dwells in our house, and opes to death a door. Oft amid favouring gales and summer skies Destruction's breakers madly rise And wreck our hopes upon the rocky shore. AGAMEMNON. If Mr. Haveloc had not been entirely engrossed by his affection for Margaret, it would have been almost impossible to have been thrown so much in the society of Aveline, and under circumstances of such touching interest, without becoming warmly attached to her.