“I am sorry I said anything that seemed unfitting,” said Frank, meekly.  “You know I could not mean it!”

“Yes, yes, yes, I bear no malice; only one does not like to see one’s own child courted without a voice in the matter, and to hear she is to be taken as a favour, expecting nothing.  But, there, we’ll say no more.  I like you, Frank Charnock! and only wish you had ten thousand a year, or were any one else; but you see—­you see.  Well, let’s eat our luncheon.”

“Does she know this decision?” asked Frank, aside, as he held open the door for Lady Tyrrell.

“Yes, she knows it can go no further; though we are too merciful to deny you the beatific vision, provided you are good, and abstain from any more little tendresses for the present.—­Ah!”—­enter Cecil—­ “I thought we should see you to-day, my dear!”

“Yes; I am on my way to meet my husband at the station,” said Cecil, meeting her in the hall, and returning her kiss.

“Is Raymond coming home to-day?” said Frank, as he too exchanged greetings.  “Ah!  I remember; I did not see you at breakfast this morning.”

“No!” and there was signification in the voice; but Frank did not heed it, for coming down-stairs was Eleonora, her face full of a blushing sweetness, which gave it all the beauty it had ever lacked.

He could do no more than look and speak before all the rest; the carriage was ordered for the sisters to go out together, and he lingered in vain for a few words in private, for Sir Harry kept him talking about Captain Duncombe’s wonderful colt, till Cecil had driven off one way, and their two hostesses the other; and he could only ride home to tell his mother how he had sped.

Better than Rosamond, better even than Charlie, was his mother as a confidante; and though she had been surprised into her affectionate acceptance of Eleonora, it was an indescribable delight to mother and son to find themselves once more in full sympathy; while he poured out all that had been pent up ever since his winter at Rockpier.  She almost made common cause with him in the question, what would Raymond say?  And it proved to be news to her that her eldest son was to be immediately expected at home.  Cecil had not come to see her, and had sent her no message; but ungracious inattention was not so uncommon as to excite much remark from one who never wished to take heed to it; and it was soon forgotten in the praise of Eleonora.

Cecil meanwhile was receiving Raymond at the station.  He was pleased to see her there in her pony-carriage, but a little startled by the brief coldness of her reply to his inquiry after his mother, and the tight compression of her lips all the time they were making their way through the town, where, as usual, he was hailed every two or three minutes by persons wanting a word with him.  When at last there was a free space, she began:  “Raymond, I wish to know whether you mean me to be set at naught, and my friends deliberately insulted?”