How complete should be her happiness and their love! She, who had been such a gadabout, would settle down. They should live in his own town. She would try and be as good as ever she could. She'd learn housekeeping and rear poultry. She'd try and be pious and collected like him. He should write poetry, and she would mind the fowls. Poetry and poultry. Then when the sonnets and the cocks and hens had gone to roost, George would give her his arm, and take her out for a nice quiet walk and nice sensible talk. She'd tell him all about the cocks and the hens, and he'd talk to her about the hunt and the House of Commons and the poor-rates and Shakespeare, which were, she believed, the subjects educated country gentlemen usually spoke to their wives-- Wife! When Marie Gordon first came upon this word she arrested her headlong thought, and, with a vivid blush, drew back from the visions she had been contemplating. There was something sudden, awful, in coming all at once upon the most important word in the vocabulary of life. She mentally reproved herself for dealing so lightly with serious matters; and, rousing herself from the long abstraction in which she had lain, she devoted her attention to the ordinary events of the breakfast-table. Nevill was still rattling on, and Miss Osborne looking at him in stupefied wonder. When breakfast was over, Osborne went to Marie and said,-- 'Surely you don't intend staying within all this lovely day?' 'Yes, I do,' she answered, with a quiet smile. 'But,' he urged, 'you remember your promise that for the month--' 'Yes, I recollect. I am afraid I shall break that promise in more ways than one.' He started, and looked anxiously, eagerly at her. 'What do you mean?' 'I cannot tell you now.' 'When will you tell me? I shall be most uneasy until I hear.' 'This evening, perhaps.' 'Shall I have to wait so long?' 'There will be no opportunity sooner.' 'But is what I am to hear good or bad? You cannot do less than answer that question.' She looked into his eyes, and, with a half-roguish smile, answered,-- 'That will depend on whether you are what I fancy you to be, or not.' 'If I am what you fancy, shall I be pleased with what you have to tell me?' 'I think so. You must not ask me any more now. Your sister and I will stay in all day, and you and Mr Nevill are to go somewhere. Go to some man's place, for we want you to take us to all the places we may go to; and, of course, if you two selfish men go to a place we may see, you will not make a second visit merely to bring us. Mr Nevill,' she called aloud. Nevill was standing at the farther end of the room talking to Miss Osborne. 'Since we are not to be favoured with the society of you or Miss Gordon to-day, I'll answer for Mr Osborne.' Turning to Osborne, he said,--'I'll tell you what we will do. Go to the meeting of the Prehistoric Society. Have you ever been at one?' 'No.'