'That I was, Mr. Egerton, and there's nothing I wouldn't do for you
and yours--for you at least, for there's none but you left now. But I
suppose you'll be getting married one of these days; you're not
going to let the old name of Egerton die out?'

Angus Egerton shook his head with a slow sad gesture.

'I am too poor to marry, Mrs. Thatcher,' he said. 'What could I
offer a wife but a gloomy old house, and a perpetual struggle to
make hundreds do the work of thousands? I am too proud to ask the
woman I love to sacrifice her future to me.'

'Cumber Priory is good enough for any woman that ever lived,'
answered Rebecca Thatcher. 'You don't mean what you say, Mr.
Egerton. You know that the name you bear is counted better than
money in these parts.'

He laughed, and changed the conversation.

'I heard you young ladies talking a great deal of the Pensildon fête
last night,' he said.

'Did you really?' asked Milly; 'you did not appear to be much
interested in our conversation.'

'Did I seem distrait? It is a way I have sometimes, Miss Darrell;
but I can assure you I can hear two or three conversations at once.
I think I heard all that you and the Miss Collingwoods were saying.'

'You are going to Lady Pensildon's on the 31st, I suppose?' Milly