Squire Crosbie was a tall, thin man with a worn, almost haggard face. Its prevailing expression was kindly but weak, and he turned instinctively to his wife for moral support and assistance. Stuart dearly loved his father. The gentle student disposition certainly was not in harmony with his own nature; but he had never received aught but tenderness and love from his father, and grew to think of him as a feeble plant that required warmth and affection to nourish it. His feeling for his mother was entirely different. He inherited his strong spirit from her, the blood of an old sporting family flowed in her veins. She was a powerful, domineering woman, and Stuart had been taught to give her obedience rather than love. Had he been permitted to remain always with his mother, his nature, although in the abstract as strong as hers, might by force of habit have become weakened and altered; but, as soon as he had attained his majority, he had expressed a determination to travel, and in this was seconded for once most doggedly by his father. Those two years abroad did him an infinite amount of good; but to Mrs. Crosbie they did not bring unalloyed delight. Her son had gone from her a child obedient to her will, he returned a man and submissive only to his own. Lady Charteris resembled her brother, the squire; but the intellectual light that gleamed in his eyes was altogether wanting in hers. Her mind was evidently fixed on her child, for even in the thick of a conversation her gaze would wander to Vane and rest on her. She was heartily pleased now at her daughter’s brightness, and whispered many hopes to Mrs. Crosbie that this visit might benefit the delicate nerves and health. Mrs. Crosbie nodded absently to these remarks. She was occupied with her own thoughts. Stuart must marry; and whom could he find better, search where he might, than Vane Charteris for his wife? Beautiful, proud, a woman who had reigned as a social queen--in every way she was fitted to become the mistress of Crosbie Castle. She watched her son eagerly, she saw the interest and admiration in his face, and her heart grew glad. Of all things Mrs. Crosbie had dreaded during those two years’ absence, the fear of an attraction or entanglement had been most frequent, and not until she saw him so wrapped up in his cousin Vane did she realize indeed that her fears had been groundless. CHAPTER V. “Get on your bonnet, child, and trot away! I shall be content till you come back.” “Mother, I don’t like to leave you to-day, you seem so weak. Miss Lawson will not mind--let her stay with you.” Mrs. Morris put out her weak hand and caressed the soft silky hair. “No, no, child,” she persisted, gently. “You must go to yer lessons. Reuben will be ’ome directly; he’ll make me a cup of tea; don’t you worrit yourself. It’s yer day of German, too, and I want you to be well got on by the time her ladyship comes home.” Margery rose slowly from her knees.