"But who is it?" interrupted Sir Henry Tempest.
"Alas!—Who! I could almost faint in telling it to you," groaned Lady Verner. "My unfortunate son, Jan."
The relief was so great to Lucy; the revulsion of feeling so sudden; the idea called up altogether so comical, that she clasped her hands one within the other, and laughed out in glee.
"Oh, Lady Verner! Poor Jan! I never thought you meant him. Papa," she said, turning eagerly to Sir Henry, "Jan is downright worthy and good, but I should not like to marry him."
"Jan may be worthy; but he is not handsome," gravely remarked Sir Henry.
"He is better than handsome," returned Lucy. "I shall love Jan all my life, papa; but not in that way."
Her perfect openness, her ease of manner, gave an earnest of the truth with which she spoke; and Lady Verner was summarily relieved of the fear which had haunted her rest.
"Why could you not have told me this before, Lucy?"
"Dear Lady Verner, how could I tell it you? How was I to know anything about it?"
"True," said Lady Verner. "I was simple; to suppose any young lady could ever give a thought to that unfortunate Jan! You saw him, Sir Henry. Only fancy his being my son and his father's!"