'It may be; he had to choose two extra horses from George's stalls for the journey. George himself is, of course, to be in attendance, and one of our serving men as groom. It is possible that Mr Sidney may be coming either to-day or on the morrow.' 'He will not pass without seeing Mary. I wish--' But Lucy had not time to say what the wish was, for Mary Gifford and her little son were now seen coming along a field path which led down the hillside from the open country beyond. Humphrey stepped forward quickly to meet them, and lifted Ambrose over the stile, in spite of his declaration that he could get over by himself. Humphrey tossed the child high in the air before he set him on his legs again, and then said to Mary,-- 'Out on a mission of mercy, as is your wont, Mistress Gifford.' Mary's colour rose as she said,-- 'The sick and poor are always in the world.' 'And the sad also,' Humphrey said, with an appealing look, which Mary understood only too well. 'Come and see the little chickies, Master Humphrey,' Ambrose said. 'There's three little ducks amongst them. Aunt Lou put the eggs under the old mother for fun. Grannie does not know, and when the little ducklings waddle off to the pond, she'll be in a fright, and think they'll all be drowned, and so will the hen.' But Humphrey scarcely heeded the child's chatter, he was earnestly looking at Mary Gifford's face. Surely there must be some fresh cause of trouble there, for he thought he saw traces of recent tears. Little Ambrose, finding his appeal to Humphrey took no effect, scampered off to the poultry yard, Lucy following. She thought it would be wiser to leave Humphrey to plead her cause, and persuade Mary that if his mother would consent to her journey to London, she was better out of the way when Mary raised objections to the fulfilment of her wishes. 'Is there any new cause of trouble, Mistress Gifford,' Humphrey asked. 'Nothing new--as you take the word.' 'Nought in which I can be of help?' Mary hesitated, and Humphrey said,-- 'The wrangles and quarrels yonder are on the increase. Is that so?' he asked. 'I heard loud voices when I came up to the house a short time ago, and Lucy rushed out with flaming cheeks and sparkling eyes.' 'Poor child,' Mary said, 'I will not say there is not blame on both sides, but the life we lead yonder becomes more and more hard. It is ill training for my little son to see angry passions raging, and to hear loud reproaches.' 'I know it! I know it!' Humphrey exclaimed. 'End it, Mary--end it for ever, and come and bless me with your love.' 'Nay, Humphrey, do not urge me to do what is impossible. It cannot be.' Humphrey Ratcliffe turned away with an impatient gesture, saying,-- 'I see no glory in self-martyrdom. I offer you a home, and I swear to protect you from all evil, and keep your boy from evil, train him to be a noble gentleman, and, forsooth, you turn away and will have none of me.'