"Not at all, not at all," answered Mr. Tracy. "I understand from Lawrence Graves, who is their near relation, that Sir William declares he has no instructions whatever but those contained in the will. And, as Mr. Winslow and his brother have not been upon good terms for some years, the young gentleman refuses absolutely to receive any thing from him whatever." "Then, in Heaven's name! what will become of him," exclaimed Emily, "if he is left penniless?" "He might have done well enough in many professions," said the General, "if this had occurred earlier. But he is three or four and twenty now; too old for the army; and both the church and the bar are sad slow professions; requiring a fortune to be spent before a pittance can be gained." "What will become of him no one knows," rejoined Mr. Tracy. "But it seems, he set out for London, with a bold heart, declaring he would carve his way for himself; and be dependent upon no man." "A fine bold fellow--I like him!" cried the General. "Lily, my love, another cup of coffee, and more cream, or I will disinherit you." When breakfast was over, Rose ran up to her own room, locked the door, and sat down and cried. "Then this was the cause," she murmured: "and he must think me unkind and mean." About two o'clock that day, Rose went out in a little park phæton, with a small postillion upon the near blood-horse. She had several things to do in the neighbouring village, about two miles distant: some shops to visit; a girls' school to look into; and one or two other matters of lady life. Horace Fleming, too, came up and talked to her for a few minutes, standing by the side of the phæton.