"I have no wish to get rid of you, Margaret," answered my Lady, gravely and kindly. "I have seen no fault in you myself, and I pay no heed to idle tales. 'Tis true I have written to your Aunt Willson about the matter, but only that I might have the better means of defending you. It is my most earnest wish that you should continue my child's governess as long as she wants one. But, at the same time, I would not selfishly stand in the way of your prosperity. I know it is not as pleasant to you here, as it has been, and it will be still less so if I am taken away. You may never have such another offer, and I want you to do what is best for yourself." "I cannot marry Mr. Penrose, my Lady, if I should never have another offer in all my life," I answered. "I have no wish but to live with you, and take care of Lady Betty. And if things are not quite so pleasant now, I dare say they will come round again, and if they do not, why I must expect some trouble as well as other folk. ''Tis all in the day's work!' as brother Richard says." "But would not brother Richard say that ''twas in the day's work' to marry and settle when so good an offer came in your way?" asked my Lady. "No, madam, I think not," I answered. "Richard gave up all his own plans in life that he might help dear mother, and I came here to do the same thing. I am sure he would say I ought to consider her more than myself." "But, see you not, sweetheart, that this marriage would put you in a better position to help your mother than you are now?" argued my Lady. "What with his place as chaplain, which he is still to keep, and his living, Mr. Penrose will be well to do, and he is like to rise, holding as he does in all things with the Archbishop, who is all-powerful nowadays. He will be able greatly to help your mother and the younger children." "Able is one thing, and willing is another, my Lady!" I answered. "'Tis not every man who would wish to be burdened with his wife's family, nor should I like to ask my husband to support my mother. I would rather do it myself." "I am afraid you are very proud, Margaret," said my Lady, shaking her head. "Perhaps so, my Lady," I answered. "But I pray you, dear Lady, do not urge me farther. I am greatly beholden to Mr. Penrose for his offer," (I am afraid this was a fib. I did not feel beholden to him at all, but very much as if I should love to box his ears for him) "but I never can marry him in the world." "Well, well, you shall not be urged," said my Lady. "I will tell him what you say, but I feel sure he will not be satisfied without talking to yourself. And, Margaret, let me add one thing more. My Lord hath gotten hold of this matter—through no good-will of mine, but by Mr. Penrose's bad management; and 'tis like he may rally you upon it. Do not you get angry if he does, but laugh in your turn. Learn to rule that fire within, and it will save you a great deal of trouble, my little one."