Marks shook his head. "I fear not. A designing servant, that they had, got over him after his daughter left--he was weak in health and weak in mind--and he married her. Caroline--my wife--resented it naturally; there was some recrimination on either side, and since then they have closed the door against her and me. So you see, with no prospect before us, there's nothing for me but to work the harder," he concluded, with a kind of plucked-up cheerfulness. "But, to do that, you should get up your health and strength, Marks. You must, you know. What would you do if you broke down?" "Hush!" came the involuntary and almost affrighted answer. "Don't remind me of it, sir. Sometimes I dream of it, and cannot bear to awaken." We had got to like Marks very much only in those few days. He was a gentleman in mind and manners and a pleasant one into the bargain, though he did pass his days adding up figures and was kept down by poverty. The Squire meant to keep him for a month: two months if he would stay. On the following morning, Tuesday, during breakfast-time, a letter came for him by the post--the first he had had. He had told his wife she need not write to him, wanting to have all the time for idle enjoyment: not to spend it in answering letters. "From home, James?" asked Mrs. Todhetley. "No," said he, smiling. "It is only a reminder that I am due to-morrow at the house." "What house?" cried the Squire. "Our house, sir. Brown and Co.'s." The Squire put down his buttered roll--for Molly had graciously sent in hot rolls that morning--and stared at the speaker. "What on earth are you talking of?" he cried. "You don't mean to say you are thinking of going back?" "Indeed I am--unfortunately. I must get up to London to-night." "Why, bless my heart," cried the Squire, getting up and standing a bit, "you've not been here a week!" "It is all the leave I could get, Mr. Todhetley: a week. I thought you understood that." "You can't go away till you are cured," roared the Squire. "Why didn't you go back the day you came? Don't talk nonsense, Marks." "Indeed I should like to stay longer," he earnestly said. "I wish I could. Don't you see, Mr. Todhetley, that it does not lie with me?" "Do you dare to look me in the face, Marks, and tell me this one week's rest has cured you? What on earth!--are you turning silly?" "It has done me a great, great deal of good----" "It has not, Marks. It can't have done it; not real good," came the Squire's interruption. "One would think you were a child." "It was with difficulty I obtained this one week's leave," he explained. "I am really required in the office; my absence I know causes trouble. This holiday has done so much for me that I shall go back with a good heart." "Look here," said the Squire: "suppose you take French leave, and stay?" "In that case my discharge would doubtless arrive by the first post." "Look here again: suppose in a month or two you break down and have to leave? What then?"