“It appears to me that nothing but vexation is to be the portion of my life!” uttered Lady Verner.  “Thwarted—­thwarted always!—­on all sides.  First the one, then the other—­nothing but crosses and vexations!  What did you say to Lord Garle?”

“I told Lord Garle that I could not marry him; that I should never like him well enough—­for he said, if I did not care for him now, I might later.  But I told him no; it was impossible.  I like him very well as a friend, but that is all.”

“Why don’t you like him?” repeated Lady Verner.

“I don’t know,” whispered Lucy, standing before Lady Verner like a culprit, her eyes cast down, and her eyelashes resting on her hot crimsoned face.

“Do you both mean to make yourselves into old maids, you and Decima?” reiterated the angry Lady Verner.  “A pretty pair of you I shall have on my hands!  I never was so annoyed in all my life.”

Lucy burst into tears.  “I wish I could go to papa in India!” she said.

“Do you know what you have rejected?” asked Lady Verner.  “You would have been a peeress of England.  His father will not live for ever.”

“But I should not care to be a peeress,” sobbed Lucy.  “And I don’t like him.”

“Mamma, please do not say any more,” pleaded Decima.  “Lucy is not to blame.  If she does not like Lord Garle she could not accept him.”

“Of course she is not to blame—­according to you, Miss Verner!  You were not to blame, were you, when you rejected—­some one we knew of?  Not the least doubt that you will take her part!  Young Bitterworth wished to have proposed to you; you sent him away—­as you send all—­and refuse to tell me your motive!  Very dutiful you are, Decima!”

Decima turned away her pale face.  She began to think Lucy would do better without her advocacy than with it.

“I cannot allow it to end thus,” resumed Lady Verner to Lucy.  “You must reconsider your determination and recall Lord Garle.”

The words frightened Lucy.

“I never can—­I never can, Lady Verner!” she cried.  “Please not to press it; it is of no use.”

“I must press it,” replied Lady Verner.  “I cannot allow you to throw away your future prospects in this childish manner.  How should I answer for it to Colonel Tempest?”

She swept out of the room as she concluded, and Lucy, in an uncontrollable fit of emotion, threw herself on the bosom of Decima, and sobbed there.  Decima hushed her to her soothingly, stroking her hair from her forehead with a fond gesture.

“What is it that has grieved you lately, Lucy?” she gently asked.  “I am sure you have been grieving.  I have watched you.  Gay as you appear to have been, it is a false gaiety, seen only by fits and starts.”

Lucy moved her face from the view of Decima.  “Oh, Decima! if I could but go back to papa!” was all she murmured.  “If I could but go away, and be with papa!”