"He is certainly not like either of you," was Sir Henry's reply. "Your other son was like both. Very like his father."
"Ah! he is a son!" spoke Lady Verner, in her enthusiasm. "A son worth having; a son that his father would be proud of, were he alive. Handsome, good, noble;—there are few like Lionel Verner. I spoke in praise of Lord Garle, but he is not as Lionel. A good husband, a good son, a good man. His conduct under his misfortunes was admirable."
"His misfortunes have been like a romance," remarked Sir Henry.
"More like that than reality. You will see him presently. I asked him to dine with me, and expect him in momentarily. Ah, he has had trouble in all ways. His wife brought him nothing else."
"Jan dropped a hint of that," said Sir Henry. "I should think he would not be in a hurry to marry again!
"I should think not, indeed. He—Lucy, where are you going?"
Lucy turned round with her crimsoned face. "Nowhere, Lady Verner."
"I thought I heard a carriage stop, my dear. See if it is Lionel."
Lucy walked to the window in the other room. Sir Henry followed her. The blue and silver carriage of Verner's Pride was at the Court gates, Lionel stepping from it. He came in, looking curiously at the gray head next to Lucy's.
"A noble form, a noble face!" murmured Sir Henry Tempest.