"Don't suppose," he continued, with what he possibly intended to be affability, "that I am saying this to you in any unfriendly spirit; because I'm not--nothing of the kind. I've always felt that there was in you the makings of something remarkable, though I must admit that you've gone beyond my expectations. I've always liked you, Miss Harding; in fact, I've nearly more than liked you. I want you to understand that you've made of me what you might call an unintentional confidant; so why should there be any barriers between us? Socially there are none to speak of. Your father's a poor country parson, mine was a schoolmaster; there isn't much to choose between them; if I was asked I should say that I don't think much of either. Pecuniarily the advantage is all on my side, as I happen to know; and that in spite of the three thousand pounds you have of somebody else's. Very comfortable I could make a wife, if I had one; she'd be quite the lady. I've no complaint to make about your manner towards me in public; I humbly venture to hope that after this intimation of my friendly feeling towards you, you'll be even affable when we're alone together--if ever we are. It's all up with everything here; from what I happen to know, I shouldn't be surprised if the house, and all that's in it, was sold for what it will fetch in a surprisingly short space of time. Then we shall all be parted. Miss Lindsay will go her way--though I don't know what way that'll be; you'll go yours, and I shall go mine. This will be my last taste of service. When you meet me again afterwards you'll find me a perfect gentleman, whom you won't be a bit ashamed to introduce to your friends; and I assure you I'll do my best to earn their respect and esteem. I won't detain you any longer, Miss Harding--you'll understand that I had to speak to you; and that, situated as I am, I had to take the first chance that offered. Now you can go to Miss Lindsay with a mind at ease. If an opportunity offers you might inform her what a feeling of true sympathy there is for her in the servants' hall. It's very hard for a young lady, who has been brought up in the lap of luxury, to be all at once left with hardly clothes enough to cover her, because, between ourselves, that's what's going to happen to her; and down-stairs we earnestly trust, if I may use the language of metaphor, that her back will be broadened for the burden. There's many a young girl like her who has to earn her bread in ways I shouldn't like to mention; let's hope she won't come to any of those. You might mention, if you have the chance, that we all of us wish her the very best of luck."