“Let me introduce you. This is my friend, Mr. Escott, you have often heard me speak of him.” “You must excuse my shaking hands with you, sir, I have been cooking.” “She is an excellent cook, too. Just you wait and see. What have we got?” “Some herrings and a piece of steak.” “Is that good enough for you?” “I love herrings.” “I am glad of that, these are quite fresh; they were caught this morning. You must excuse me, I must go back; they want a deal of attending to.” Presently she appeared with a tray and a beer jug. Willy called to the office-boy. “We have no cheese,” said Mrs. Brookes. Cissy begged to be allowed to fetch the cheese and beer. “No, dear, I am afraid you aren't well enough.” “Yes, I am, uncle; give me a shilling, and let me go with Billy.” Then, breaking off with the unexpected garrulity of children, she continued: “I am getting quite strong now; I was down on the beach this morning, and watched the little boys and girls building mounds. When I am quite well, uncle, won't you buy me a spade and bucket, and mayn't I build sand mounds, too?” “We'll see when the time comes.” “Well, let me go with Billy and fetch the cheese.” “No, you can't go now, dear, there are too many people about; this is not like London.” Cissy had the long sad face of cripples, but beautiful shining curls hung thickly, hiding the crookedness of the shoulders. She was nine years old, and was just beginning to awake to a sense of the importance of her affliction. After lunch she was sent downstairs to the office-boy. Willy sat rubbing his hands slowly and methodically. After some hesitation he introduced the subject they had come to speak on. “Mr. Escott will tell you, Mary, how important it is that our marriage should be kept secret; he will tell you how the slightest suspicion of it would ruin my prospects.” He then spoke of his position in the county, and the necessity of sustaining it. Frank thought this rather bad taste; but he assured Mrs. Brookes, with much Celtic gesticulation, that her marriage must be kept a secret till her father-in-law's death. The young men and Mrs. Brookes remained talking till the rays trailed among the green grass of the graves, and the blue roofs that descended into the valley, and clung about the sides of the opposite hill. It had been arranged that Willy and Mrs. Brookes should go to London to-morrow to be married. Frank was convinced that she would not break her promise, and he hoped they would be very happy. She had only raised one objection. She had said: “What is the use of my being married if I shall have to live with him as his mistress?” “A great deal of good. Your position will be secured. Willy will not be able to leave you, even if he felt inclined, and you will know that only one life, that of an old man, stands between you and fifteen hundred a year.”