"Lionel," she suddenly said.
He had been glancing over the pages of the book—a new work on India. He laid it down as he had found it, and turned to her.
"What shall you allow me when you come into Verner's Pride?"
"Whatever you shall wish, mother. You shall name the sum, not I. And if you name too modest a one," he added laughingly, "I shall double it. But Verner's Pride must be your home then, as well as mine."
"Never!" was the emphatic answer. "What! to be turned out of it again by the advent of a young wife? No, never, Lionel."
Lionel laughed—constrainedly this time.
"I may not be bringing home a young wife for this many and many a year to come."
"If you never brought one, I would not make my home at Verner's Pride," she resumed, in the same impulsive voice. "Live in the house by favour, that ought to have been mine by right? You would not be my true son to ask me, Lionel. Catherine, is that you?" she called out, as the movements of some one were heard in the ante-room.
A woman-servant put in her head.
"My lady?"