"The sweetest, dearest treasure in the world!" said Alizon taking Sammy across to his nurse, "here, Nurse, take him--oh! he's got my flowers, naughty boy." And indeed, Master Errington, crowing with delight, carried off a mangled geranium in triumph to his nursery, kicking vigorously in Mrs. Tasker's strong arms. "How you idolize that child, Alizon," said Eustace enviously. "He is all I have in the world," she replied with a sigh. "I don't know what I should do without him." "Don't inspire the angels with envy," murmured Gartney, a little cruelly, "it might be dangerous for him." "Oh!" She laid her hand on her heart with a cry, and a pallor over-spread her face. "It is cruel to talk like that," she said hurriedly; "you don't think he looks ill, do you? He's such a strong child. There's no chance of his dying. Oh, Eustace, you don't think that, do you?" "No! no! of course I don't," he replied, soothingly. "Don't get these foolish fancies into your head. Sammy will live to be a great trouble to you I've no doubt." "He'll never be that," answered Lady Errington, recovering herself. "Ah! there's the gong." "Dinner is served, my lady," announced a servant at the door, and taking Gartney's arm, she went with him into the dining-room. It was "Alizon" and "Eustace" with them now, for after all, they were cousins, if only by marriage, and it was so disagreeable to constantly use the formality of titles. Still, there was always that indefinable barrier between them, which kept Eustace within the limits of kindly friendship, and on her part, Alizon never forgot her dignity as a married woman. "It's very kind of you, Alizon, to take pity on a poor hermit," said Gartney, towards the end of the meal, "but I don't know what the county will say at this _tête-à-tête_ dinner." "The county can hardly complain, seeing we are cousins." "By marriage." "Yes, by marriage," she assented, changing the conversation from such a distasteful subject, which reminded her of Guy. "By the way, Eustace, I want you to sing to me this evening." "I think I do that pretty nearly every time I come over," replied Eustace, smiling. "Is there anything special you want?" "I remember your improvisation at Como about the fairy and the nightingale. It was very charming." "Ah! you remember that?" he cried, his face lighting up. "It was too delightful to forget." Eustace laughed a trifle disbelievingly. "Is that genuine, or a society romance?" "I always say what I mean," she answered, with cold dignity. "I'm glad everybody else does not," retorted Gartney fervently. "What a disagreeable world it would be, if that was the case." "A very honest world, at all events." "And therefore disagreeable--the two are inseparable." "Why should they be?" "Ah! why shouldn't they?" said Eustace meaningly. "If the truth was pleasant, nobody would mind hearing it, but then the truth is not always pleasant." "That is the fault of the person spoken of."