Diana had established herself in her ancestral home with a superannuated governess as a chaperon, for without such a guardianship she could hardly have invited the barrister to visit her.
Miss Priscilla Barbar was a placid, silver-haired old dame, who, having taught Diana for many years, had returned, now that the American Mrs.
Vrain had departed, to spend the rest of her days under the roof of her dear pupil.
She took a great fancy to Lucian, which was just as well, seeing what was the object of his visit, and complacently watched the growing attachment between the handsome young couple, who seemed so suited to one another.

But her duties as chaperon were nominal, for when not pottering about the garden she was knitting in a snug corner, and when knitting failed to interest her she slumbered quietly, in defiance of the etiquette which should have compelled her to make a third in the conversation of her young friends.
As for Lucian and his charming hostess, they found that they had so many tastes in common, and enjoyed each other's society so much, that they were hardly ever apart.

Diana saw with the keen eyes of a woman that Lucian was in love with her, and let it be seen in a marvellously short space of time, and without much difficulty, that she was in love with him.
But even after Lucian had been at the manor a fortnight, and daily in the society of Diana, he spoke no word of love.

Seeing how beautiful she was, and how dowered with lands and rents and horses, he began to ask himself whether it was not rather a presumption on his part to ask her to share his life.

He had only three hundred a year--six pounds a week--and a profession in which, as yet, he had not succeeded; so he could offer her very little in exchange for her beauty, wealth, and position.
The poor lover became quite pale with fruitless longing, and his spirits fell so low that good Miss Priscilla one day drew him aside to ask about his health.
"For," said she, "if you are ill in body, Mr.Denzil, I know of some remedies--old woman's medicines you will call them, no doubt--which, with the blessing of God, may do you good." "Thank you, Miss Barbar, but I am not ill in body--worse luck!" and Lucian sighed.
"Why worse luck, Mr.Denzil ?" said the old lady severely.