Having settled this part of her plan, she now began to ponder upon that important feature of it which concerned the marriage of Miss Cicely with Ralph Haverley.  Why, under the circumstances, this should not take place as a mere matter of course and as the most natural thing in the world, she could not imagine.  But in all countries young people are very odd, and must be managed.  She had not yet had any good opportunity of judging of the relations between these two; she had noticed that they were on very easy and friendly terms with each other, but this was not enough.  It might be a long time before people who were jolly good friends came to look upon each other from a marrying point of view.  Things ought to be hurried up; that Miss Bannister would be away for two weeks; she, La Fleur, would be here for two weeks.  She must try what she could do; the fire must be brightened,—­the draught turned on, ashes raked out, kindling-wood thrust in if necessary, to make things hotter.  At all events the dinner-bell must ring at the appointed time, in a fortnight, less one day.

Ralph came striding across the lawn, and noticing La Fleur, approached her.

“I am glad to see you,” he said, “for I want to tell you how much I enjoyed your beefsteak this morning.  One could not get anything better cooked than that at Delmonico’s.  The dinner last night was very good, too.”

“Oh, don’t mention that, sir,” said La Fleur, who had risen the moment she saw him, and now stood with her head on one side, her eyes cast down, and a long smile on her face.  “That dinner was nothing to what I shall give you when Miss Miriam has sent for some things from the town which I want.  And as for the steak, I beg you will not judge me until I have got for myself the cuts I want from the butcher.  Then you shall see, sir, what I can do for you.  In a beautiful home like this, Mr. Haverley, the cooking should be of the noblest and best.”

Ralph laughed.

“So long as you stay with us, La Fleur,” he said, “I am sure Cobhurst will have all it deserves in that respect.”

“Thank you very much, sir,” she said, dropping a little courtesy.  Then, raising her eyes, she cast them over the landscape and bent them again with a little sigh.

“You are a gentleman of feeling, Mr. Haverley,” she said, “and can understand the feelings of another, even if she be an old woman and a cook, and I know you can comprehend my sentiments when I find myself again serving my most gracious former mistress Mrs. Drane, and her lovely daughter, whose beautiful qualities of mind and soul it does not become me to speak of to you, sir.  They were most kind to me when I first came to this country, she and her daughter, two angels, sir, whom I would serve forever.  Do not think, sir, that I would not gladly serve you and your lady sister, but they are above all.  It was last night, sir, as I sat looking out of my window at the beautiful trees in the moonlight, and