At last, after Colonel Brownlow had spent a day in London, he made his appearance with a cheque-book in his hand, and the information that he and his fellow-trustee had so arranged that the heiress could open an account, and begin to enter on the fruition of the property. There were other arrangements to be made, those about the out-door servants and keepers could be settled with Richards, but she ought to remove her two sons from the foundation of the two colleges, though of course they would continue there as pupils. “And Robert,” she said, colouring exceedingly, “if you will let me, there is a thing I wish very much--to send your John to Eton with mine. He is my godson, you know, and it would be such a pleasure to me.” “Thank you, Caroline,” said the Colonel, after a moment’s hesitation, “Johnny is to stand at the Eton election, and I should prefer his owing his education to his own exertions rather than to any kindness.” “Yes, yes; I understand that,” said Caroline; “but I do want you to let me do anything for any of them. I should be so grateful,” she added, imploringly, with a good deal of agitation; “please--please think of it, as if your brother were still here. You would never mind how much he did for them.” “Yes, I should,” said the Colonel, decidedly, but pausing to collect his next sentence. “I should not accept from him what might teach my sons dependence. You see that, Caroline.” “Yes,” she humbly said. “He would be wise about it! I don’t want to be disagreeable and oppressive, Robert; I will never try to force things on you; but please let me do all that is possible to you to allow.” There was something touching in her incoherent earnestness, which made the Colonel smile, yet wink away some moisture from his eyes, as he again thanked her without either acceptance or refusal. Then he said he was going to Belforest, and asked whether she would not like to come and look over the place. He would go back and call for her with the pony carriage. “But would not Ellen like to go?” she said. “I will walk with the boys.” The Colonel demurred a little, but knowing that his wife really longed to go, and could not well be squeezed into the back seat, he gave a sort of half assent; and as he left the house, Mother Carey gave a summoning cry to gather her brood, rushed upstairs, put on what Babie called her “most every dayest old black hat;” and when Colonel and Mrs. Brownlow, with Jessie behind, drove into the park, it was to see her careering along by the short cut over the hoar-frosty grass, in the midst of seven boys, three girls, and two dogs, all in a most frisky mood of exhilaration.