“Yes, my dear mother; and worse than that; every field so purchased has been declared or assured--or whatever they call it--to follow the trusts of this settlement; so that I verily believe if I wanted £5000 for any urgent family purposes, I must raise it--if at all--upon mere personal security. But surely, dear mother, you cannot find fault with the very efficient manner in which your own desires have been carried out.” “Well, my son, I have acted for the best, and according to your dear father’s plans. When I married your father,” the old lady continued, with a soft quiet pride, which was quite her own, “it was believed, in the very best quarters, that the Duchess Dowager of Chalcorhin, of whom perhaps you may have heard me speak----” “Truly yes, mother, every other day.” “And, my dear son, I have a right to do so of my own godmother, and great-aunt. The sneering spirit of the present day cannot rob us of all our advantages. However, your father (as was right and natural on his part) felt a conviction--as those low Methodists are always saying of themselves--that there would be a hundred thousand pounds, to help him in what he was thinking of. But her Grace was vexed at my marriage; and so, as you know, my dear Roland, I brought the Lorraines nothing.” “Yes, my dear mother, you brought yourself, and your clear mind, and clever management.” “Will you always think that of me, Roland, dear? Whatever happens, when I am gone, will you always believe that I did my best?” Sir Roland was surprised at his mother’s very unusual state of mind. And he saw how her delicate face was softened from its calm composure. And the like emotion moved himself; for he was a man of strong feeling, though he deigned so rarely to let it out, and froze it so often with fatalism. “My dearest mother,” he answered, bowing his silver hair over her snowy locks, “surely you know me well enough to make such a question needless. A more active and devoted mind never worked for one especial purpose--the welfare of those for whose sake you have abandoned show and grandeur. Ay, mother, and with as much success as our hereditary faults allowed. Since your labours began, we must have picked up fifty acres.” “Is that all you know of it, Roland?” asked Lady Valeria, with a short sigh; “all my efforts will be thrown away, I greatly fear, when I am gone. One hundred and fifty-six acres and a half have been brought back into the Lorraine rent-roll, without even counting the hedge-rows. And now there are two things to be done, to carry on this great work well. That interloper, Sir Remnant Chapman, a man of comparatively modern race, holds more than two thousand acres of the best and oldest Lorraine land. He wishes young Alice to marry his son, and proposes a very handsome settlement. Why, Roland, you told me all about it--though not quite as soon as you should have done.”