‘They have a trained nurse to do the hardest part of it; and she is strong. Magdalen is very strong,’ Michael repeated to himself in a meditative kind of way. ‘And, of course, she does what I tell her about air and exercise, and all that. I hope it won’t injure her.’ ‘Well, she has the best of all possible safeguards in having you there,’ said Roger, with a smile, which was, perhaps, a little forced. He had intended his remark to be a cheering one, but, to his surprise, Michael’s answer was a deep sigh. This was enough to rouse Roger’s uneasiness. Holding his pipe suspended, he asked, anxiously, ‘Michael, what’s up? Are you in trouble?’ ‘It’s only that what you say reminds me that I am no safeguard at all for her,’ he said, dejectedly. ‘I sometimes think what a selfish brute I was, ever to speak to her. If I had held my tongue and kept out of the way, she might have been married by now, to some man who could really have been that protector, which I can only seem to be. After all, what can I do for her? I cannot save her from experiences like this. I cannot justly afford to marry, for several years to come. It would be gross selfishness to take her away from Balder Hall to any such place as I could give her. And yet, if Miss Strangforth were to die—she is so old, and so feeble—if she were to die, there would be nothing else left.’ ‘And a great deal too good for her,’ was the silent comment in Roger’s bosom. He found Michael’s remarks very difficult to answer. He had an idea, whether right or wrong, that Magdalen, whom he could not love, let him strive never so loyally for his friend’s sake to do so, was not the frail and timid creature that Michael seemed to imagine her. Roger felt sure that the idea as to the impropriety of removing her from Balder Hall to a humbler abode was hers, not Michael’s. He was certain she did not stand in much need of guardianship, but was well able to fight her own battles and take care of herself. He heard all the gossip about Michael and Miss Wynter, which, of course, never penetrated to their ears; heard, too, Gilbert’s frequent scathing strictures on his future sister-in-law. He knew all about Otho Askam’s constant visits to Balder Hall. So did Michael; but then, Roger knew what was said about those visits. He remarked at last, with the cowardice characteristic of us all in such cases, and, perhaps, also with a shrewd inkling that it would not be of much use to speak differently— ‘Of course, it is hard lines, Michael, having to wait so long. But even if you were married to-morrow, you can’t forbid care and trouble to come to either her or you. There are no lives without them. But Miss Wynter is a brick, I know’ (this with great emphasis, as he felt anything but sure of it); ‘she ought to be proud of waiting for you, and I expect she is.’