happiness to her, poor child!" said Sir Harry, wistfully.

"Happiness!" was the scornful answer. "If you said 'her own way,'
it would be nearer the truth. A back street in London--going about
in a cab--and occasional holidays on sufferance from Mrs. Poynsett."

However little happiness either father or daughter had derived from
their chosen ways, this idea was abhorrent to both; and Lady Tyrrell
pressed her advantage. "If we keep him waiting much longer he will
be rushing after Lena, and if you show the least sign of relenting
he will insist on dragging you to an interview with his mother."

The threat was effectual; for Sir Harry had had passages-at arms
enough with Mrs. Poynsett to make him dread her curt dry civility
far more than either dun or bailiff, and he was at once roused to
the determination to be explicit.

Frank met him, with crimson face and prepared speech. "Good
morning, Sir Harry! I am afraid you may think that you have reason
to complain of my not having spoken to you sooner; but I trusted to
your previous knowledge of my feelings, and I was anxious to
ascertain my position before laying it before you, though I don't
believe I should have succeeded unless my mind had been set at
rest."

Soft-hearted Sir Harry muttered, "I understand, but--"

The pause at that 'but' was so long that Frank ventured on going on.
"I have not had an official communication, but I know privately that
I have passed well and stand favourably for promotion, so that my