'As if young ladies could ever help or remove the cares of business!' he cried, speaking lightly. 'I am not a child, Austin,' she resumed: 'it is not kind of you to make pretence that I am, and try to put me off as one. Papa's trouble is _not_ connected with business, and I am sure you know that as well as I do. Will you not tell me what it is?' 'Florence, you can have no grounds for assuming that I am cognisant of it.' 'I feel very sure that you are. Can you suppose that I should otherwise speak of it to you?' 'I say that you can have no grounds for the supposition. By what do you so judge?' 'By signs,' she answered. 'I can read it in your countenance, your actions. I was pretty sure of it before that day when you sent me hastily into your rooms, lest I should hear what the man Gwinn was about to say; but I have been fully sure since. What he would have said related to it; and, in some way, the man is connected with the ill. Besides, you have been on confidential terms with papa for years.' 'On business matters only: not on private ones. My dear Florence, I must request you to let this subject cease, now and always. I know nothing of its nature from your father; and if my own thoughts have in any way strayed towards it, it is not fitting that I should give utterance to them.' 'Tell me one thing: could I be of any service, in any way?' 'Hush, Florence,' he uttered, as if the words had struck upon some painful cord. 'The only service you can render is, by taking no notice of it. Do not think of it if you can help; do not allude to it to your mother.' 'I never do,' she interrupted.--'That is well.' 'You have sometimes said you cared for me.' 'Well?' he rejoined, determined to be as contrary as he could. 'If you did, you would not leave me in this suspense. Only tell me the nature of papa's trouble, I will not ask further.' Austin gathered his wits together, thinking what plea he should invent. 'It is a debt, Florence. Your papa contracted a debt many years ago; he thought it was paid; but by some devilry--pardon the word; I forgot I was talking to you--a lawyer, Gwinn of Ketterford, has proved that it was not paid, and he comes to press for instalments of it. That is all I know. And now you must give me your promise not to speak of this. I'll never tell you anything more if you do.' Florence had listened attentively, and was satisfied. 'I will never speak of it,' she said. 'I think I understand it now. Papa fears he shall have no fortune left for me. Oh, if he only knew----' 'Hush, Florence!' came the warning whisper, for Mrs. Hunter was standing at the door. 'Is it you, Austin? I heard voices here, and wondered who had come in.' 'How are you, dear Mrs. Hunter?' he said to her as she entered. 'Better this evening?'