“There used to be a train at seven o’clock,” Austin remarked, consulting his watch.

The two women were silent.

“Could you get ready to come with me to Raynham in ten minutes?”

Austin looked as if he had asked a commonplace question.

Lucy’s lips parted to speak.  She could not answer.

Loud rattled the teaboard to Mrs. Berry’s dropping hands.

“Joy and deliverance!” she exclaimed with a foundering voice.

“Will you come?” Austin kindly asked again.

Lucy tried to stop her beating heart, as she answered, “Yes.”  Mrs. Berry cunningly pretended to interpret the irresolution in her tones with a mighty whisper:  “She’s thinking what’s to be done with baby.”

“He must learn to travel,” said Austin.

“Oh!” cried Mrs. Berry, “and I’ll be his nuss, and bear him, a sweet!  Oh! and think of it! me nurse-maid once more at Raynham Abbey! but it’s nurse-woman now, you must say.  Let us be goin’ on the spot.”

She started up and away in hot haste, fearing delay would cool the heaven-sent resolve.  Austin smiled, eying his watch and Lucy alternately.  She was wishing to ask a multitude of questions.  His face reassured her, and saying:  “I will be dressed instantly,” she also left the room.  Talking, bustling, preparing, wrapping up my lord, and looking to their neatnesses, they were nevertheless ready within the time prescribed by Austin, and Mrs. Berry stood humming over the baby.  “He’ll sleep it through,” she said.  “He’s had enough for an alderman, and goes to sleep sound after his dinner, he do, a duck!” Before they departed, Lucy ran up to Lady Feverel.  She returned for, the small one.

“One moment, Mr. Wentworth?”

“Just two,” said Austin.

Master Richard was taken up, and when Lucy came back her eyes were full of tears.

“She thinks she is never to see him again, Mr. Wentworth.”

“She shall,” Austin said simply.

Off they went, and with Austin near her, Lucy forgot to dwell at all upon the great act of courage she was performing.

“I do hope baby will not wake,” was her chief solicitude.

“He!” cries nurse-woman Berry, from the rear, “his little tum-tum’s as tight as he can hold, a pet! a lamb! a bird! a beauty! and ye may take yer oath he never wakes till that’s slack.  He’ve got character of his own, a blessed!”

There are some tremendous citadels that only want to be taken by storm.  The baronet sat alone in his library, sick of resistance, and rejoicing in the pride of no surrender; a terror to his friends and to himself.  Hearing Austin’s name sonorously pronounced by the man of calves, he looked up from his book, and held out his hand.  “Glad to see you, Austin.”  His appearance betokened complete security.  The next minute he found himself escaladed.