"Psha!" returned Sibylla. And Lionel, without another word, quitted her and walked away. In these moments, above all others, would the image of Lucy Tempest rise up before his sight. Beat it down as he would, it was ever present to him. A mistake in his marriage! Ay; none save Lionel knew how fatal a one. He passed on direct to the terrace, avoiding the lawn, traversed it, and went out at the large gates. Thence he made his way to Poynton's, the veterinary surgeon, who also dealt in horses. At least, dealt in them so far as that he would buy and sell when employed to do so. The man was in his yard, watching a horse go through his paces. He came forward to meet Lionel. "Mrs. Verner has been talking to you about some ponies, she tells me," began Lionel. "What are they?" "A very handsome pair, sir. Just the thing for a lady to drive. They are to be sold for a hundred and fifty pounds. It's under their value." "Spirited?" "Yes. They have their mettle about them. Good horses always have, you know, sir. Mrs. Verner has given me the commission." "Which I am come to rescind," replied Lionel, calling up a light smile to his face. "I cannot have my wife's neck risked by her attempting to drive spirited ponies, Poynton. She knows nothing of driving, is constitutionally timid, and--in short, I do not wish the order executed." "Very well, sir," was the man's reply. "There's no harm done. I was at Verner's Pride with that horse that's ill, and Mrs. Verner spoke to me about some ponies. It was only to-day I heard these were in the market, and I mentioned them to her. But, for all I know, they may be already sold." Lionel turned to walk out of the yard. "After Mrs. Verner shall have learned to drive, then we shall see; perhaps we may buy a pair," he remarked. "My opinion is that she will not learn. After a trial or two she will give it up." "All right, sir." CHAPTER LVI. A LIFE HOVERING IN THE BALANCE. Jan was coming up the road from Deerham with long strides, as Lionel turned out of Poynton's yard. Lionel advanced leisurely to meet him. "One would think you were walking for a wager, Jan!" "Ay," said Jan. "This is my first round to-day. Bitterworths have sent for me in desperate haste. Folks always get ill at the wrong time." "Why don't you ride?" asked Lionel, turning with Jan, and stepping out at the same pace. "There was no time to get the horse ready. I can walk it nearly as fast. I have had no breakfast yet." "No breakfast!" echoed Lionel. "I dived into the kitchen and caught up a piece of bread out of the basket. Half my patients must do without me to-day. I have only just got away from Hook's." "How is the girl?" "In great danger," replied Jan. "She is ill, then?" "So ill, that I don't think she'll last the day out. The child's dead. I must cut across the fields back there again, after I have seen what's amiss at Bitterworth's."