John heard all this very well, but he still lingered a moment. It was so sudden, so unexpected, though he had known it must come some day. His mother, though she felt as he did, was more equal to the occasion, for calmness and reason had grown in her with years.

"I shouldn't wonder if the gentleman's right, John," she said. "It seems to me, too, as little Lily has a look of him. Go and fetch her in, my dear."

"Shall I go with you?" said Colonel Maxwell, as John left the house.

"No, sir. Please to stop here," was the rather startling reply, which filled Mrs. Randal with confusion and turned her paleness to blushes.

"I hope you'll make allowances for him," she said hastily. "He is that devoted to Lily, he's never happy when she's out of his sight. You wouldn't believe, sir, as a young man like him could take such care of a child as he's taken of Lily, ever since the day he brought her home. She's been his first thought—almost too much, I might say—for he was going to be married to the best girl in the village, and they had words because he thought she'd taken the child against his wish to Carsham Fair, which she never had, and never would, for it was all a sad mistake—but Mary Alfrick, she had a spirit of her own, and that quarrel's never been made up, and never will be now, I suppose, for it's nine months ago, and she's left the place and gone to a situation. Mr. Sands, you know that's one of the biggest troubles I've known."

"Yes, Mrs. Randal; I was truly sorry about that," said the Vicar. "I still hope those two may come to an understanding in time, for they are worthy of each other, though patience was lacking on both sides. But now, before John brings little Lily, will you tell us the story of how he found her? I was only able to give Colonel Maxwell the main facts."

"Certainly, sir. Please to sit down, gentlemen," said Mrs. Randal.

The Vicar and Sir Henry did so, but Colonel Maxwell stood just inside the doorway, looking along the path, past the row of tall white lilies, towards the garden that lay beyond the thick shade of two or three old apple-trees.