Robin Clifford smiled, sadly.

“I think not,” he answered.  “Of course she feels the death of my uncle deeply—­she adored him—­and then-I-suppose you know—­my uncle may have told you—­”

“That he hoped and expected you to marry her?” said Mr. Bayliss, nodding his head, sagaciously—­“Yes—­I am aware that such was his dearest wish.  In fact he led me to believe that the matter was as good as settled.”

“She will not have me,” said Clifford, gently—­“and I cannot compel her to marry me against her will—­indeed I would not if I could.”

The lawyer was so surprised that he was obliged to take off his glasses and polish them.

“She will not have you!” he exclaimed.  “Dear me!  That is indeed most unexpected and distressing!  There is—­there is nothing against you, surely?—­you are quite a personable young man—­”

Robin shrugged his shoulders, disdainfully.

“Whatever I am does not matter to her,” he said—­“Let us talk no more about it.”

Priscilla looked from one to the other.

“Eh well!” she said—­“If any one knows ’er at all ’tis I as ’ave ’ad ‘er with me night an’ day when she was a baby—­and ’as watched ‘er grow into the little beauty she is,—­an’ ’er ’ed’s just fair full o’ strange fancies that she’s got out o’ the books she found in the old knight’s chest years ago—­we must give ’er time to think a bit an’ settle.  ’Tis an awful blow to ’er to lose ’er Dad, as she allus called Farmer Jocelyn—­she’s like a little bird fallen out o’ the nest with no strength to use ‘er wings an’ not knowin’ where to go.  Let ‘er settle a bit!—­that’s what I sez—­an’ you’ll see I’m right.  You leave ‘er alone, Mister Robin, an’ all’ll come right, never fear!  She’s got the queerest notions about love—­she picked ’em out o’ they old books—­an’ she’ll ’ave to find out they’s more lies than truth.  Love’s a poor ‘oldin’ for most folks—­it don’t last long enough.”

Mr. Bayliss permitted himself to smile, as he took his hat, and prepared to go.

“I’m sure you’re quite right, Miss Priday!” he said—­“you speak—­ er—­most sensibly!  I’m sure I hope, for the young lady’s sake, that she will ’settle down’—­if she does not—­”

“Ay, if she does not!” echoed Clifford.

“Well! if she does not, life may be difficult for her”—­and the lawyer shook his head forebodingly—­“A girl alone in the world—­ with no relatives!—­ah, dear, dear me!  A sad look-out!—­a very sad look-out!  But we must trust to her good sense that she will be wise in time!”

CHAPTER X

Upstairs, shut in her own little room with the door locked, Innocent opened the sealed packet.  She found within it a letter and some bank-notes.  With a sensitive pain which thrilled every nerve in her body she unfolded the letter, written in Hugo Jocelyn’s firm clear writing—­a writing she knew so well, and which bore no trace of weakness or failing in the hand that guided the pen.  How strange it was, she thought, that the written words should look so living and distinct when the writer was dead!  Her head swam.—­her eyes were dim—­for a moment she could scarcely see—­then the mist before her slowly dispersed and she read the first words, which made her heart swell and the tears rise in her aching throat.