“I can’t tell you quite exactly,” said Mr. Baldwin, “till we decide what to do with this house, the furniture, &c. There is a long lease to dispose of and the furniture, I suppose, is valuable. But to give you a rough idea,” he went on, consulting a note book in his hand. “I should think, after all is cleared, you and Harry will have about—mind I only say about—four hundred a year between you. The ready money is at present in the Mallingford hank, the bank of which my father used to be the head, you know, Miss Vere. If the other trustee, a cousin of your father’s, who is at present abroad, wishes to put it anywhere else, I shall have no objection, though for my own part I think it may as well stay where it is. The old bank’s as safe as can be. All my own money is there, which shows what I think of it. Still I don’t profess to be much of a man of business and I should like to have Mr. Framley Vere’s opinion. I am sadly afraid I shall make a very poor trustee! I don’t like to say “guardian,” to such wards, for I honestly believe you are both much wiser than I. I fear your poor father must have credited me with some of my own father’s long-headedness as to money matters, and if so the result will prove he was mistaken. I however can only do my best. Only pray don’t ever ask me anything I should not consent to, for I could not possibly refuse you.” He spoke lightly, and as if to both, but his eyes rested on Marion. She was touched by his frankness and simplicity, his kindness of voice and manner, and, in all innocence and child-like confidence, she held out her hand to him, saying warmly, “Thank you, Mr. Baldwin for explaining it to me so kindly. I am quite sure I shall never wish for another guardian any way.” Geoffrey took the little hand, softly, reverently almost, in his own great strong one. A deep flush spread over his face, for though sunburnt, he was naturally so fair that as a boy at school his quickly changing colour had procured for him many undesirable epithets; and there came a grave, earnest look into his eyes, which added to their depth, without diminishing their softness. Without speaking, he pressed gently the hand that lay in his, held it for a moment, as if mentally sealing a vow. Harry had turned away before this little scene occurred, and all that Marion thought of it was, “How kind and brotherly Mr. Baldwin is! Were it necessary I almost think I could take him into my confidence.” CHAPTER VI. MALLINGFORD AND AUNT TREMLETT. “Non illum nostri passunt labores, Non si frigoribus mediis Hebrumque libamus Sithoniasque nives hiemis subeamus aquosæ— Omnia vincit amor.” VIRGIL. “AND what then do you and Harry think I should do? Where, I should rather say, do you think I should go, for I am sure you have thought of some plan?” asked Marion, later is the evening, as they still at together talking.