“Fitzroy and I do not think him half good enough for you,” she said, very prettily. “But no one who knows Mr. Mayne can fail to like him, he is so thoroughly genuine and nice. Will the engagement be a long one, Miss Challoner?”
“Not so very long,” Nan returned, blushing. “Dick has to read for honors; but, when he has taken his degree, his father has promised to make things straight for us, while Dick reads for the bar.”
“He is to be a barrister, then?” asked Lady Fitzroy, in surprise. “You must not think me inquisitive, but I thought Mr. Mayne was so very well off.”
“So he is,” replied Nan, smiling,—“quite rich, I believe; but Dick would not like an idle life, and during his father’s lifetime he can only expect a moderate income.”
“You will live in London, then?”
“Oh, yes; I suppose so;” was Nan’s answer. “But we have not talked much about that yet. Dick must work hard for another year, and after that I believe things are to be settled.” And then Lady Fitzroy kissed her again, and they went downstairs.
Nan wrote home that she was fêted like a queen, and that Dick grumbled sadly at having her so little to himself; but then Dick was much given to that sort of good-natured grumbling.
The visit was necessarily a very brief one, as term-time was approaching, and Dick had to go up to Oxford. On the last morning he took Nan for a walk down to Sandy Lane. Vigo and the other dogs were with them, and at the point where the four roads met, Dick stopped and leaned his arms over a gate.
“It will seem a long time to Easter, Nan,” he said, rather lugubriously.
“Oh, no,” she replied brightly to this; “you will have my letters,—such long ones, Dick,—and you know Mr. Mayne has promised to bring Phillis and me down for a couple of days. We are to stay at the Randolph, and of course we shall have afternoon tea in your rooms.”