"Yes, and sensibly; here is the letter;" and he took Mr. Armstrong's letter from the desk and handed it to her. She read it and returned it to him in silence. "You will not allow this disappointment to interfere with your future intentions, Henry?" "No, indeed," he replied, "I am throwing off the memory of my folly by degrees, and I own I am relieved by telling you all about it. I am not vain enough to suppose that Miss Armstrong will be influenced by the impulsive, unmeaning words I said to her, so there is no harm done. I have no doubt little Freddy was removed to prevent the possibility of any further intercourse. So ends my first and last dream of love." "Better so, my son, better so, both for your sake and Miss Armstrong's. I quite agree with Mr. Armstrong about long courtship. You would not be in a position to marry for three or four years at the earliest, and not even then to such a girl as Miss Armstrong unless you had a living of some real value." For nearly an hour Mrs. Halford remained with her son, listening to his account of the pleasant days at Oxford, and their result, and when at last she rose to go, he said-- "Please do not allow the subject to be spoken of by Kate, if you tell her, but I should like my father to know, and by-and-by I may be able to laugh over my folly as a thing of the past." "No reference shall be made, Henry, I promise you," said Mrs. Halford, as her son rose to open the door for her with the family courtesy now so seldom seen. He closed it after her, but without locking it. This little interview had done him good. A painful secret loses more than half its bitterness when it has been listened to with sympathising love by a true friend. And who such a true friend as a mother? She had purposely said very little to her son of her own opinion on the matter, but as she slowly ascended the stairs to be alone in her own room for a time, she said to herself-- "I will pay Mrs. Armstrong and her daughter a visit some day. I should like to become acquainted with this girl who has so fascinated my son." And then, as she seated herself to reflect on what she had heard, her thoughts reverted to her own only daughter, whom she had not seen for nearly fifteen years. Mrs. Franklyn had written once only since the birth of little Albert, and although she spoke of being weaker than usual, and longing to visit England again and see them all, yet she was careful not to alarm her mother. This reticence on Fanny's part, and her husband's lively and sanguine letters, removed all fear of anything serious about the health of the dearly-loved daughter. And yet at this very moment a letter from Fanny was on its way to England, in which she touched gently on the possibility that she might not live to reach England in the following spring, and enclosing one to her brother to be opened in case of her death.