‘Quite happy, papa,’ she answered, and he concluded that the tears which filled her eyes as she looked up at him were tears of happiness. ‘And Jerome is all he should be–eh?’ ‘You may see for yourself what Jerome is to me,’ replied Nita, in a vibrating voice, and with a heightened colour. ‘Surely no wife was ever treated with the attention that he gives to me!’ ‘Well, well, I was but joking,’ he answered, with profound satisfaction. ‘When I bought the Abbey, Nita, years ago, I often thought to myself that the Wellfields were a proud, extravagant race, and that their inheritance had passed away from them for ever, into hands that were honester than theirs, and better able to look after it. Then comes this youngster, and will have my daughter. It is strange–almost like a romance, I think, sometimes. It seems that a Wellfield is to have the old place again; it is not to be a Radical stronghold, as I had once fancied it would be. Better so, perhaps. At any rate, it was best that you should marry the man of your choice, be he rich or poor, Wellfield or Smith–and be happy with him. When I do go, I shall go in peace, knowing that you are settled in the home you love, with the man you love.’ ‘There never was anyone who had such a good father as I have. But he is very wicked when he says anything about “going,” in peace or otherwise,’ replied Nita, with something like her old smile. After this they went into the house, and John came down to supper, for they still kept up the old hours, in every-day life, at least. Mr. Bolton also remained, and to all outward semblance a very happy, united family group was gathered there. Jerome offered to accompany his father-in-law to Monk’s Gate, as he had wished to speak with him on a matter of business. The business was soon settled, and then, as they stood at the garden-door of Monk’s Gate, Mr. Bolton suddenly said: ‘Nita and I had a stroll by the river this afternoon. I was talking to her about you.’ ‘Yes?’ said Jerome, his heart giving a sudden throb as he wondered _what_ they had talked about him. ‘When you were married, I had some fears. Now I have none. I can see that my girl is happy. I wish you could have seen her face as she said to me, “You can see for yourself what Jerome is to me.” Sometimes I think I shall not last very long——’ ‘God forbid that you should be right in your idea, sir.’ ‘Anyhow, Nita is all I have, and I thank you, Wellfield, for making her happy. It gives to my old age all that it needs to make it contented.’ He wrung Wellfield’s hand, who answered, in a voice of some emotion: ‘My wife is an angel. I do not deserve her.’ ‘Pooh! “An angel not too bright and good–” What is it? I know I am quoting it wrong, but it comes to the same thing. Good-night, boy! God bless you!’ Jerome, as he walked home, bit his lips, and his heart seemed burnt up within him with shame. ‘Gad! what a blackguard I feel when this sort of thing happens!’ he muttered, as he went in.