"Dearest mother, don't think that I love you one whit the less because I am away from you, and am learning to love other people a little too. Nobody could be to me what you are, my own dear mother.--Your child, "LESLEY." So Lesley's girlish, emotional, indiscreet letter went upon its way to Lady Alice, who was just then in Eaton Square, and Lesley never dreamt of the tears that it brought to her mother's eyes. The letter was a shock to Lady Alice in more ways than one. First, it showed her that on one point at least she _had_ been mistaken--and it was a point that had long been a very sore one to her. Caspar had not meant the correspondence between mother and daughter to cease--so he said now; but she was certain that he had spoken very harshly about it when the arrangement was first made. He had even affected to doubt whether she had heart enough to care whether she heard from her child or not. Well, possibly he had altered his views since those days. Lesley said that he _must_ be different! Poor Lesley! thought Lady Alice, how very little she knew! She seemed to have been as much fascinated by her father as Lady Alice had been, in days long past, by Caspar Brooke as a lover; but Lady Alice reflected that _she_ had never thought of Caspar as good or gentle or "great" in any way. She thought of him chiefly in his relation to herself, and in that relation he had not been satisfactory. Yes, she remembered well enough the sarcastic remarks, the odd hours, the discomfort of her solitary meals. Lesley could see all these points, and yet discover good in the man, and not be disgusted? Lady Alice could not understand her daughter's impartiality. Of course--it had occurred to her once or twice--that, being human, she _might_ have been mistaken. She could have got over the dreariness and discomfort of Caspar's home, if Caspar had but loved her. Suppose--it was just a remote possibility--Caspar had loved her all the time! "The child has infected me with her romantic ideas," said Lady Alice, at last, with a faint, sad smile. "Let me see--what does she say about her friends? The Kenyons--Ethel Kenyon--Mr. Trent--the clergyman of the parish--Mr. Kenyon--Mr. Kenyon I wonder who the Mr. Kenyon is of whom she speaks so highly. Surely not a clergyman too? Poor Caspar disliked clergymen so much. I wonder if Mrs. Romaine is still living in the neighborhood. But no, I remember: she went out to Calcutta and then to some German baths with her husband. What became of her, I wonder! If she were friendly with Caspar still, Lesley would be sure to mention her to me!" And she read the letter through once more. But Lesley had not said a word about Mrs. Romaine: her heart had been too hot and angry with the remembrance of what Mrs. Romaine's brother had done, to lead her to say one word about the family.