"I understand. We must take care: you are a thoughtful little lady."--He sometimes has called me "Little lady," instead of "Miss Theodora."--"Yes, your father will feel acutely this first break in the family." I said I did not mean that exactly, as it was not the case. And, for the first time, it struck me as sad, that one whom I never knew, whom I scarcely ever think of, should be lost from among us, so lost as not to be even named. Doctor Urquhart asked me why I looked so grave? At first I said I had rather not tell him, and then I felt as if at that moment, standing quietly talking in the lovely night, after such a happy day, it were a comfort, almost a necessity, to tell him anything, everything. "I was thinking of someone belonging to me whom nobody knows of, whom we never speak about. Hush, don't let them hear." "Who was it? But I beg your pardon, do not tell me unless you like." From his tone,--he thought, I know he thought---- Oh, what a ridiculous, impossible thing! Then I was determined to tell. "It was one--who was Papa's favourite among us all." "A sister?" "No, a brother." I had not time to say any more, for they were just starting, nor am I satisfied that I was right in saying so much. But the confidence is safe with him, and he will never refer to it; he will feel, as we do, that a subject so painful is best avoided, even among ourselves--on the whole I am glad he knows. Coming indoors, the girls made me very angry by their jests, but the anger has somehow evaporated now. What does it matter? As I told Lisabel, friends do not grow on every hedge, though lovers may, and when one finds a good man one ought to value him, nor be ashamed of it either. No, no, my sweet moon, setting so quickly behind that belt of firs, I _will_ like him if I choose, as I like everything true and noble wherever I find it in this world. Moon, it is a good world, a happy world, and grows happier the longer one lives in it. So I will just watch your silver ladyship--a nice "little lady" you are too, slipping away from it with that satisfied farewell smile, and then--I shall go to bed. CHAPTER IX. HIS STORY. It is a fortnight since I wrote a line here.. Last Sunday week I made a discovery--in truth, two discoveries--after which I lost myself, as it were, for many days. It will be advisable not to see any more of that family. Not that I have any proof that they are _the_ family--the name itself, Johnson, and their acknowledged plebeian origin, is sufficient evidence to the contrary. But, if they had been! The mere supposition, coming, instinctively, that Sunday night, before reason argued it down--was enough to cause me twelve such hours as would be purchased dearly with twelve years of life--even a life full of such happiness as, I then learnt, is possible for a man. But not for me.--Never for me!