“Oh, indeed, it is only asthma; he is well enough, quite well, not anything the matter with him,” Frances protested. The large stranger stood and smiled compassionately upon her, still shaking his head. “Mary,” he said--“here, my dear! This is Miss Waring. She says her father is quite well, poor thing. I am telling her I am so very glad we have met her, for Waring did not leave me any address.” “How do you do, my dear?” said the stout lady--not much less red than her husband--who had also hurried down the steep path to meet Frances. “And your father is quite well? I am so glad. We thought him looking rather--thin; not so strong as he used to look.” “But then,” added her husband, “it is such a long time since we have seen him, and he never was very stout. I hope, if you will pardon me for asking, that things have been smoothed down between him and the rest of the family? When I say ‘smoothed down,’ I mean set on a better footing--more friendly, more harmonious. I am very glad I have seen you, to inquire privately; for one never knows how far to go with a man of his--well--peculiar temper.” “Don’t say that, George. You must not think, my dear, that Mr Mannering means anything that is not quite nice, and friendly, and respectful to your papa. It is only out of kindness that he asks. Your poor papa has been much tried. I am sure he has always had my sympathy, and my husband’s too. Mr Mannering only means that he hopes things are more comfortable between your father and---- Which is so much to be desired for everybody’s sake.”