Mr. Dormer-Smith made a little inarticulate sound, which might mean anything. Despite her beauty, which he admired, Miss Hadlow was no great favourite of his. But he would not imperil the present calm in his domestic atmosphere by saying so. "Misfortunes," pursued Pauline, still gazing at the fire, "never come singly, they say; and really I believe it." "Does Miss Hadlow announce any misfortune?" "Oh no!--at least, we are bound not to look on it as a misfortune. Who could wish him to linger, poor fellow? She is staying near Combe Park, and she says Lucius has been quite given up by the doctors. It is a question of days--perhaps of hours." "No? By George! Poor old Lucius!" returned Mr. Dormer-Smith, with a touch of real feeling in his tone. "Of course, this will make an immense difference in May's prospects. I don't mean to say that she will easily find another millionnaire, with such extraordinarily liberal ideas about settlements as Mr. Bragg hinted to me this morning; _that_ is, humanly speaking, not possible," said Mrs. Dormer-Smith solemnly. "Still, the affair may not be such an irretrievable disaster as we feared." "How do you mean?" asked Frederick, whose mind, as we know, moved rather slowly. "It _must_ make a difference to her," repeated his wife in a musing tone. "The only child and heiress of the future Viscount Castlecombe, of course----" "By George! I didn't think of that at the moment. Yes, Gus is the next. I suppose that's quite certain?" Mrs. Dormer-Smith did not even condescend to answer this query, but merely raised her eyebrows with a superior and melancholy smile. Frederick pondered a minute or so; then he said, "You say 'heiress,' but I don't think your uncle would leave Gus a pound more than he couldn't help leaving him." "I fear that is likely. Still, there is much of the land that must come to Augustus, and Uncle George has enormously improved the estate. Do you know I begin to hope that I may see my poor unfortunate brother come back and take his proper place in the world? When I remember what he was five-and-twenty years ago, it does seem cruel that he should have been absolutely eclipsed during all this time. I recollect so well the day he first appeared in his uniform. He was brilliant. Poor Augustus!" Mr. Dormer-Smith felt that the difficulty of telling his wife what he had just heard assumed a new shape. He had feared to add to the load of what Pauline considered family misfortunes; now it seemed as if his news would dash her rising spirits, and darken roseate hopes. He passed his large hand over his mouth and chin, and said, with his eyes fixed uneasily on his wife, who was still contemplating the fire with an air of abstraction-- "Ah! Yes. But--there may be a Lady Castlecombe to find a place in the world for." "Not improbable. I hope there may be. Augustus is little past the prime of life. It would compensate for much if----"