“Oh, yes, bless you, as soon as ever you let him know that it would not make any difference. I knew very well that was what he meant all along. What should he go abroad for, a gentleman with his fortune? it was all nonsense. And Lady Markham,” said Janet, solemnly, “it would be mean to leave him in the lurch, I know, after all that; but still, I’ve got myself to look to. I don’t understand what all this story is about a new gentleman, and him, after all, not having anything. I can’t feel easy in my mind about it. I like Sir Paul the best, and always will; but I’ve had another very good offer. It’s too serious to play fast and loose with,” said Janet, gravely, “it’s something as I must take or leave. Now there is nobody but you, my lady, that will tell me the truth. He is Sir Paul, ain’t he? he has got the property? I wouldn’t take it upon me to ask such questions if it wasn’t that I am, so to speak, one of the family. And as for father--I can’t put no confidence in what father says.” Alice got up hurriedly from her chair and threw down her work; it was a mere movement of impatience, but to Janet every movement meant something. She kept her eyes upon the young lady who might, for anything she could tell, be in a conspiracy to keep the truth from her. “Father thinks of nothing but love,” she said, following Alice with her eyes, “but there’s more in marriage than that. I can’t trust in father to tell me true.” “What is it you want me to tell you?” said Lady Markham, trembling with eagerness. She would have told her--almost anything that was not directly false. She began to frame in her mind a description of Paul’s disinheritance, but she feared to spoil her case by too great anxiety. As for Alice, she stood by the window pale, speechless, indignant--too wildly angry on Paul’s account to perceive what her mother saw so plainly, that here was a chance of escape for Paul. “Well, just the truth, my lady,” said Janet, “if it is true what folks are saying. I can’t believe it’s true. You are Lady Markham, I never heard anything against that, and he is your eldest. But they say he is not Sir Paul and hasn’t the property. I can’t tell how that can be.” “It is true, though,” said Lady Markham, speaking low; even when there was an excellent use for it, it was not easy to repeat all the wrongs that her son had borne. “My son is not Sir Paul,” she said, “nor has he the Markham estates. He has an elder brother who has inherited everything. This has only been quite certain for two or three days. My boy--who had every prospect of being rich--is now poor. That is very grievous for him; but to those who love him,” said the indiscreet woman, her heart triumphing over her reason, “he is not changed; he is all he ever was, and more.”