Katharine sided with the lovers, as her husband had foretold, and he withdrew his opposition.
“Only, how do you intend to live?” he enquired one day of Sydney, as she sat nursing the little heir upon her knee.
“We are going to wait, of course,” she explained, “till Hugh is earning rather more, and in the meantime I am going to be so busy. I shall learn cooking and housekeeping and everything useful I can think of, and then it won’t matter if Hugh and I are not so very rich at first, will it?”
“H—m,” said St. Quentin. “You’re right about not being in a hurry. Katharine and I can’t do without you yet. But, you ridiculous little goose! has it never struck you that there are such things as wedding presents—and as marriage settlements? Look here, old Lorry wants to retire, if he can get a good offer for
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 his practice. It’s a first-rate one, you know, and it appears your Hugh won golden opinions here at the time of the fever. Lorry thinks if he were to come down and work in with him a little, the youngster would be received with enthusiasm by the patients when he himself cuts the concern. If your Hugh likes the notion, I’ll buy the practice for him and set you up in Lorry’s house, which you can have rent free, of course. How would that suit you as a wedding present? You see, old Lorry means to retire on Donisbro’, where some of his own people hang out.
“It’s a nice enough house and handy to the Castle, which is fortunate; for even if Katharine and I would allow you to leave Lislehurst, my tenants wouldn’t. So if this plan suits you and your Hugh, you can go on with your work-parties and soup-kitchens and all the rest of it, and you and Katharine together see what you can do towards turning me into a model landlord. What do you say to that scheme, eh?”
“Hugh come here, and he and I live here for always!” Sydney cried. “Oh, St. Quentin, you don’t mean it?”
“Then you like the notion?” said her cousin with a pleased smile.
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“Like it!” cried Sydney. “Why, the part of being married that I minded was the leaving you!”

Lord Lisle entertained quite a large party at his christening feast.
Mrs. Chichester was there, seeming to grow visibly younger in the freedom from household cares, and rapidly finding a congenial spirit in Katharine, and Dolly, very happy to be with Sydney again, and Fred and Prissie, who in spite of some natural disappointment at finding no merry-go-rounds in St. Quentin’s Park, managed to enjoy themselves exceedingly, with the ecstatic joy of London children in the country.
And Lord Braemuir was there, burly and good-natured as ever, and most hearty in his congratulations both to Hugh and St. Quentin, and Mr. Fenton, absolutely beaming, and looking with a nervous interest at the baby, whom he liked very much, he explained, “at a distance.”
And Hugh was there, with Dr. Lorry, whose door already bore the brass inscription,
Dr. Gustavus Lorry.
Dr. Hugh Chichester.
And Mr. Seaton was there, looking as
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 though all his cares had rolled away with the coming of the bright-faced bride on his arm, who made all the better housekeeper, he used to say proudly, for knowing as much Greek as he did himself.
And Pauly was there, but in no very sociable frame of mind, for he ignored everyone but Freddie, the length of whose nine-year-old legs filled him with awe and admiration. He refused to even look at the baby, but kept his round eyes fixed on Freddie, who patronised him in a way that amused the looker-on considerably.
Both boys, however, managed to do full justice to the splendid christening cake, on which Mrs. Fewkes had expended her utmost pains and skill. Indeed, Pauly very decidedly made up for his abstinence upon that celebrated fifth birthday.
And old Mr. Hudder was there, rather prosy but extremely happy, and never more so than when St. Quentin asked his “oldest tenant” to propose the health of the son and heir.
“My Lord, Your Ladyship, and Ladies and Gentlemen,” he said, “man and boy I’ve held my farm under the Marquesses of St. Quentin. They’ve been good landlords to me, and I’ve been a good tenant to them. My
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 Lord, Your Ladyship, Ladies and Gentlemen, we didn’t look to see this happy day. All of us standing here have got a lot to thank God for. He has raised up his lordship and given us the fine strong heir as we’re thanking Him for to-day. I’ll not deny but that we looked forward to seeing the young lady that we’ve learned to love reign over us, but it seems she’s satisfied with the woman’s kingdom that is hers to-day. God bless her! and give her and her husband that is to be every happiness, and the same to you, My Lord and Your Ladyship. And in the name of your lordships’ tenants, I wish a long and happy life, and all prosperity, to Sidney, Lord Lisle.”

That was indeed a happy day, but there was one to come that was even happier—the day on which Sydney Lisle laid down her maiden name and became, what she had always felt herself, a Chichester.
Lord St. Quentin gave the bride away. “A thing which I am bound to do considering it was I who took her from you,” he said, laughing.
He and Hugh were good friends by this time, all the better perhaps for having begun,
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 as the famous Mrs. Malaprop would say, with “a little aversion,” and Hugh did not misunderstand the marquess when he said—“Sydney used to annoy me by insisting upon being three-parts Chichester when I wished her to be all Lisle: now it is my turn to insist that she does not quite forget the Lisle side, when she is a Chichester by right.”
“But we are all one family now, aren’t we, Quin?” Sydney said softly, and her cousin did not contradict the statement.
It was on a perfect September day, with that deeper blue in the clear sky and wonderful freshness in the air which summer’s end brings with it, that Sydney was married.
As on that first morning at the Castle long ago, she rose before the rest of the household, and went out into the Park, where diamond dew l............