“Oh, Cousin Marilda, have I kept you waiting? I am so sorry!” “Where have you been?” “Only on the cliff walk. Lord Ivinghoe took me to see the place where his father had the accident, and we watched the fireworks from there. Oh, it was so nice, and still more beautiful when the strange lights were out and the people gone, and only the lovely quiet moon shining on the sea, and a path of light from Venus.” “I should think so,” muttered Gerald, and Marilda began-- “Pretty well, miss.” “I am very sorry to bo so late,” began Francie, and Geraldine caught an opportunity while shawling Marilda to say-- “Dear, good Marilda, I implore you to say nothing to put it into her head or Alda’s. I don’t think any harm is done yet, but it can’t be anything. It can’t come to good, and it would only be unhappiness to them all.” “Oh, ah! well, I’ll try. But what a chance it would be, and how happy it would make poor Alda!” “It can’t be. The boy’s mother would never let him look at her! Don’t, don’t, don’t!” “Well, I’ll try not.” She kissed her fondly. Gerald’s walk had been with Dolores of course, a quiet, grave, earnest talk and walk, making them feel how much they belonged to one another, and building schemes in which they were to learn the nature of the poor and hard-worked, by veritably belonging to them, and being thus able to be of real benefit. In truth, neither of them, in their brave youthfulness, really regretted Vale Leston, and the responsibilities; and, as Gerald declared, he would give it up tomorrow gladly if he could save his name and his father’s from shame, but, alas! the things went together. Dolores wished to write fully to her father, and that Gerald should do the same, but she did not wish to have the matter discussed in the family at once, before his answer came, and Gerald had agreed to silence, as indeed they would not call themselves engaged till that time. Indeed, Dolores said there was so much excitement about Captain Armytage that no one was thinking of her. CHAPTER XXIV. -- COUNSELS OF PATIENCE He either fears his fate too much, Or his deserts are small, Who fears to put it to the touch, To win or lose it all. If Sibby hoped to keep her “long boy” from being “mislested,” she was mistaken. He knew too well what was to come, and when she knocked at his door with his cup of tea, he came to it half dressed, to her extreme indignation, calling for his shaving water. “Now, Master Clem, if you would only be insinsed enough to keep to your bed, you might have Miss Sophy to speak to you there, if nothing else will serve you.” “Is she there?” “In coorse, and Miss Francie too. What should they do else, after colloguing with their young men all night? Ah, ‘tis a proud woman poor Miss Alda would be if she could have seen the young lord! And the real beauty is Miss Francie, such as my own babbies were before her, bless them!”