'Do you remember my telling you about George Moore--that nice fellow who got into trouble with his rector? Well, he has married lately, and his wife is a very good woman. Moore has taken a capital house at Brighton. He has a curacy at Kemp Town, and he is looking out for a few pupils to prepare for the university. 'I am going to send Kester to him for a year or two, until he is old enough to go to Oxford. Abercrombie tells me the sea air will do him a world of good. I have just written to him to come up at once, as he must have a proper outfit. And now I must tell you that Blake has found some very good rooms, Kensington way. I went down with him yesterday, and I think they will do very well. 'There is a good-sized drawing-room--a sunny, cheerful room, with a smaller one behind, where Blake can work with his pupils--and two good bedrooms. Biddy (how I wish she were not to be of the menage!) will have to content herself with a dull slip of a room on the basement. Of course the furniture is shabby, and there is very little of it; but I mean to introduce a few improvements by degrees. I like the appearance of the woman of the house. She is a widow, and is evidently very respectable. Her daughter, a very tidy sort of person, waits on the lodgers. 'I think I have told you about all now. Blake has thawed lately, and we have long talks together, though perhaps they are not cheerful ones. On the whole, I think he shows a great deal of pluck. I doubt whether any other young man of his age would behave as well. If the Victoria Cross were ever given for moral heroism, I am sure Blake would get it. 'Good-bye until we meet. I suppose I shall be back in another week or ten days. Take care of yourself, my dear, for the sake of your affectionate friend and cousin, 'MICHAEL.' 'There is no one like Michael!' was Audrey's inward comment as she put down the letter. How simply he had told her his intentions with regard to Kester! as though his generosity were a matter of course. How few men of Michael's age would have cared to saddle themselves with such a responsibility! for one, too, who was not their own kith and kin. 'It will cost him at least two hundred a year,' she thought; 'no wonder my poor Cyril found it difficult to accept such an offer. He would take nothing from Michael for himself, but he could hardly refuse for Kester. Michael has virtually adopted him, just as I should like to adopt Mollie. I suppose he thinks he will have no son of his own, and there is all that money----' And she sighed a little as she thought of Michael's loneliness.