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"You are as bad as our French mistress at the rectory," she said. "She
would never tell us anything; she used to make us guess."
Her words were interrupted by the breaking out of the church bells: a
loud peal, telling of joy. A misgiving crossed Lionel that the news had
got wind, and that some officious person had been setting on the bells
to ring for him, in honour of his succession. The exceeding bad taste of
the proceeding--should it prove so--called a flush of anger to his
brow. His inheritance had cost Mrs. Verner her son.
The suspicion was confirmed. One of the servants, who had been to the
village, came running in at this juncture with open mouth, calling out
that Mr. Lionel had come into his own, and that the bells were ringing
for it. Lucy Tempest heard the words, and turned to Lionel.
"It is so, Lucy," he said, answering the look. "Verner's Pride is at
last mine. But--"
She grew strangely excited. Lionel could see her heart beat--could see
the tears of emotion gather in her eyes.
"I am so glad!" she said in a low, heartfelt tone.


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