Bernard might in fact have been sent thither by subscription from the family, but he surprised them all by showing Cherry his letter to accept an under-clerkship in the house of Kedge and Underwood. It was the consequence of a consultation with Mr. Travis on means of living, though the lad had kept his own counsel till all was settled, and, he added, 'I know I've been an idle dog, but I do mean to work now;' the hitherto obstinately childish face showed manhood and self-reliance. Felix had done quite right to knock all his supports away, and that he knew it was shown by his acting at once instead of grumbling. The fate of many a comrade had taught him to rejoice that his post was not the prize of a competitive examination, and if his features and bearing perilously reminded Spooner of his brother Edgar, the absence of Edgar's tastes and talents exempted him from some of the same temptations; nor did Miss Underwood show any symptoms of spoiling him, only settling him in respectable lodgings, and making her house no more than a friendly cousinly resort. His public school-life had likewise given him a less dangerous set of acquaintance than Edgar's had been, and there were wholesome opportunities of gratifying his love of athletics. Lady Caergwent, too, on coming to town for the Session, did not forget the solitary Vale Lestonite, but requited his botanical exertions with friendly invitations for gay evenings and for quiet Sundays, both of which did much to keep up what was good, both outwardly and inwardly, in the youth.

'Kedge and Underwood' in all its branches was intensely elated at its approaching union with the great Mr. Travis of Peter Brown and Co., who was to take the style and arms of Underwood, well pleased to appropriate the rood, and bear the name of those whom he had always regarded with a true family love. The wedding was to be soon after Easter, and the pair were then to go out and make arrangements for the future welfare of the American property. Ferdinand had in jest asked Gerald if he would go back, and the child had drawn back into his aunt's arms, and answered, 'Not without Chérie.'

Wilmet had soon come downstairs again, but with the first visible signs of departing youth, the first dimming of the freshness of complexion, the first marring of the perfect oval contour of face, and with a heart heavy as much for the living sister as for the dead brother, and with the sad grieving which only mothers know for the babe whom she had never seen. John was anxious to take her from home. The last old Miss Oglandby had died suddenly during her recovery, and as all three had left him half their portions, he was now a man of considerable means, rather disproportioned to his cottage at Vale Leston. There however he meant to remain, for the sake of attending to the estate, but he hastened the preliminary business in order to proceed to that in Buckinghamshire, so soon as Wilmet should be capable of the journey. And he found the less to do, that never man had set his house in order more thoroughly than Felix. Every paper and letter was sorted, and so marked that there was not an instant's doubt whether it concerned the estate or the business; every account was clearly brought down to Christmas, and nothing left that could complicate or perplex: in many cases, especially with regard to the farms and Blackstone Gulley, there were notes of conversations, promises, or intentions. The executors had little but formal work to do.

Wilmet was only once able to come to the Priory before she left home, and she could hardly bear it, breaking down with showers of tears, as if the grief were fresh; while Geraldine went about, calm, dry-eyed, occupied, attending to Gerald, receiving callers, writing letters, and consulting with her brothers, or even helping Lance with work for the Pursuivant, but all as if the taste and flavour had gone out of her life, and nothing could interest her, except Gerald and one other employment.

She had copied her miniature of Felix for Stella, and the wistful admiration of some of the others had made her volunteer to give one to each of the family, and she spent many hours over the square open brow, clear, fearless, stedfast, well-opened grey eyes and firm sweet mouth. Wilmet, discovering what she was about, thought it so bad for her as to call for a scolding to Clement and Robina for having permitted her to undertake what must injure her eyes and feed her sorrow.

'No, don't stop me, Mettie,' said Cherry, 'I can do them now, perhaps I could not later.'

'You need not do them. Photographs would do quite as well, and save you.'

'I don't want to be saved. It is my great pleasure.'

'A morbid pleasure, I fear, my dear. At any rate I will not be the cause of your hurting yourself. I will have a photograph.'

'Don't take it now at least,' implored Cherry as the white resolute fingers closed on the original. 'Please! I cannot quite bear to let him go. Besides,' with a smile of entreaty, 'I don't think you perceive. It is not morbid. It does me good. It is like getting Clement to talk in the evening. I go over those dear lines and curves, and every touch brings back some look or word, so that it is living with him, and learning him over again, and I get to giving thanks for him best that way.'