‘Oh, no; I don’t think badly of them. They are so young, they don’t know; but it is true all the same. They don’t mind how I look, Edward: which must be my blame and not theirs,’ she added, with a faint smile; ‘how should it be theirs? It is only part of the failure. Some people make no impression on--anyone. They are ineffective, like what you say of a wall-paper or a piece of furniture.’ ‘These are strange things to say,’ said Beaufort, gravely. ‘Silly things,’ said Lady Car. ‘If you are not busy, let us take a stroll about the gardens. I have not been out to-day.’ She knew he was not busy, and she had given over even wishing him to be so. Desire grows faint with long deception and disappointment; but he was always kind--ready to stroll in the gardens or anything she pleased. ‘What did mother think I was going to do with you? Take you round by the Red Scaur and break your neck?’ Tom said to Janet. ‘Oh!’ cried Janet to Tom, with wide-open eyes; then added in a low tone, ‘that was where father was killed. I have never been there.’ ‘And I’m not going to take you there. It’s all shut up ever since. But I’ll tell you what we’ll do, Jan. We’ll have a long spin--as far as Blackmore’s farm.’ ‘Blackmore’s farm! That is the place----’ He gave a loud laugh. ‘Well, and what then? A thing may happen once and not again. They were tremendous friends of father’s. I don’t mean friends like--like the Erskines and so forth. Blackmore’s not a gentleman, but he’s a rattling good fellow. And you should just see his stables. There’s one hunter I’d buy in a minute if I had my liberty. It’s ten miles, or perhaps a little more. Perhaps you’re not up to that.’ ‘Oh, yes, I’m quite up to it. But I wonder if we should go--it gets dark so soon--and perhaps mother----’ ‘Oh, bother mother!’ cried the boy. ‘We can’t at our age be always stopping to consider what an old lady thinks.’ ‘Mother’s not an old lady, Tom.’