And now my Lorna came to me, with a spring of tears in appealing eyes—­for she was still somewhat childish, or rather, I should say, more childish now than when she lived in misery—­and she placed her little hand in mine, and she was half afraid to speak, and dropped her eyes for me to ask.

“What is it, little darling?” I asked, as I saw her breath come fast; for the smallest emotion moved her form.

“You don’t think, John, you don’t think, dear, that you could lend me any money?”

“All I have got,” I answered; “how much do you want, dear heart?”

“I have been calculating; and I fear that I cannot do any good with less than ten pounds, John.”

Here she looked up at me, with horror at the grandeur of the sum, and not knowing what I could think of it.  But I kept my eyes from her.  “Ten pounds!” I said in my deepest voice, on purpose to have it out in comfort, when she should be frightened; “what can you want with ten pounds, child?”

[Illustration:  524.jpg Kept my eyes from her]

“That is my concern,” said Lorna, plucking up her spirit at this:  “when a lady asks for a loan, no gentleman pries into the cause of her asking it.”

“That may be as may be,” I answered in a judicial manner; “ten pounds, or twenty, you shall have.  But I must know the purport.”

“Then that you never shall know, John.  I am very sorry for asking you.  It is not of the smallest consequence.  Oh, dear, no.”  Herewith she was running away.

“Oh, dear, yes,” I replied; “it is of very great consequence; and I understand the whole of it.  You want to give that stupid Annie, who has lost you a hundred thousand pounds, and who is going to be married before us, dear—­God only can tell why, being my younger sister—­you want to give her a wedding present.  And you shall do it, darling; because it is so good of you.  Don’t you know your title, love?  How humble you are with us humble folk.  You are Lady Lorna something, so far as I can make out yet:  and you ought not even to speak to us.  You will go away and disdain us.”

“If you please, talk not like that, John.  I will have nothing to do with it, if it comes between you and me, John.”

“You cannot help yourself,” said I. And then she vowed that she could and would.  And rank and birth were banished from between our lips in no time.

“What can I get her good enough?  I am sure I do not know,” she asked:  “she has been so kind and good to me, and she is such a darling.  How I shall miss her, to be sure!  By the bye, you seem to think, John, that I shall be rich some day.”

“Of course you will.  As rich as the French King who keeps ours.  Would the Lord Chancellor trouble himself about you, if you were poor?”

“Then if I am rich, perhaps you would lend me twenty pounds, dear John.  Ten pounds would be very mean for a wealthy person to give her.”