"When will papa be home, mamma dear? The cottage seems so dull without him!"
Such were the questions two handsome boys—one was now quite a lad of eighteen—asked of a lady on each side of whom they stood caressingly, while she hastily read a letter which had just come by post.
"In four days, dearest boys, he returns to leave us no more!" she exclaimed, with joy, as she fondly kissed them both, and once more turned to her letter.
"RESTORMEL COURT, Sept. 8.
"MY DARLING DIANA,—My uncle, Sir Launcelot, is gone, poor man! He was found dead abed by his valet this morning. No cause is assigned but old age, yet he was hearty as a brick last night over his Madeira, rallying Basset and me. Well, he has gone, with all his overstrained and old-fashioned ideas of birth, and all that sort of thing. And now for our marriage, dearest—now all justice can be done to you, my much enduring one! I am the sole heir to Restormel, and your Arthur after me. I have written to the curate of H——, Jersey, for the attested copy of our marriage left with him, and expect it by return of post. Kiss our boys for me, and believe me, dearest Diana, your affectionate husband,
"ARTHUR."
Yet she remarked that it was addressed, as usual. "Mrs. Lydiard, Carn Spern Cottage," forgetting that she was unknown by any other name.
"It is well named Carn Spern—the Carn of Thorns—for in some respects, with all our happiness, such has it been to me; but now—now all that is at an end! and blessed be God therefor! Yet it is through death—the death of an old man, however—a very old man! My boys—my innocent boys!—they are so young—they must never know our secret! Yet—how to explain to them the change of name from Lydiard to Tresilian? I must be silent as yet, and consult dear Arthur about this."
And now to go back a little way in the private life of Arthur Tresilian. The favourite nephew and acknowledged heir of his paternal uncle, he had ever been supplied by the latter with a handsome allowance. When travelling or sojourning for a time in Jersey, he had there made the acquaintance of Diana Lydiard, then a girl barely done with her schooling. Her rare beauty fascinated him; but, unfortunately, she was the daughter of one who, at Restormel Court, would have been deemed as a mere tradesman. Arthur knew that he should mortify, offend, and disoblige irrevocably the proud old Sir Launcelot if he made such a mésalliance as to marry Diana Lydiard openly; for he knew that his uncle's immense fortune was entirely at his own disposal, and that he was quite capable of cutting him off with the proverbial "shilling" and leaving the whole to Basset—the careful, plodding, and thrifty Basset.
So they were married; but wherever they went they passed as Mr. and Mrs. Lydiard, the maiden name of Diana. The marriage was duly registered in his name in the book of the little Jersey church, and an attested copy of it was lodged with the incumbent who performed the ceremony.