’No, indeed, Jane.  I am come in the hope of being of some use to him.’

‘I’d rather by half it had been Lord Fitzjocelyn,’ muttered Jane, ’he was always quieter.’

‘Now, Jane, you should not be so cross,’ cried Clara, ’when it is your own Jemmy, come on purpose to help and comfort us all!  You are going to tell Uncle Oliver, and make him glad to see him, as you know you are.’

‘I know,’ said James, ’that last time I was here, I behaved ill enough to make you dread my presence, Jane; but I have learnt and suffered a good deal since that time, and I wish for nothing so much as for my uncle’s pardon.’

Mrs. Beckett would have been more impressed, had she ever ceased to think of Master Jemmy otherwise than as a self-willed but candid boy; and she answered as if he had been throwing himself on her mercy after breaking a window, or knocking down Lord Fitzjocelyn—­

’Well, sir, that is all you can say.  I’m glad you are sorry.  I’ll see if I can mention, it to your uncle.’

Off trotted Jane, while Clara’s indignation and excited spirits relieved themselves by a burst of merry laughter, as she hung about her brother, and begged to hear of the dear old home.

The old servant, in her simplicity, went straight upstairs, and up to her nursling, as he had again become.  ‘Master Oliver,’ said she, ’he is come.  Master Jem is come back, and ’twould do your heart good to see how happy the children are together—­just like you and poor Master Henry.’

‘Did she ask him here?’ said Mr. Dynevor, uneasily.

’No, sir, he came right out of his own head, because he thought she would feel lost.’

Oliver vouchsafed no reply, and Jane pressed no farther.  He never alluded to his guest; but when Clara came into the room, his eye dwelt on her countenance of bright content and animation, and the smiles that played round her lips as she sat silent.  Her voice was hushed in the sick-room, but he heard it about the house with the blithe, lively ring that had been absent from it since he carried her away from Northwold; and her steps danced upstairs, and along the galleries, with the light, bounding tread unknown to the constrained, dignified Miss Dynevor.  Ah the notice he took that night was to say, petulantly, when Clara was sitting with him, ’Don’t stay here; you want to be down-stairs.’

’Oh, no, dear uncle, I am come to stay with you.  I don’t want, in the least, to be anywhere but here.’

He seemed pleased, although he growled; and next morning Jane reported that he had been asking for how long his nephew had come, and saying he was glad that Miss Dynevor had someone to look after her—­a sufferance beyond expectation.  In his helpless state, Jane had resumed her nursery relations with him; and he talked matters over with her so freely that it was well that the two young people were scarcely less her children, and had almost an equal share of her affection, so that Clara felt that matters might be safely trusted in her hands.