While she talked her companion had quite recovered herself, and Miss Balquidder then went on to explain, what I will tell more briefly, if less graphically, than the good Scotchwoman, who, like all who have had a hard struggle in their youth, liked a little to dilate upon it in easy old age. Hard as it was, however, it had ended early, for at fifty she found herself a woman of independent property, without kith or kin, still active, energetic, and capable of enjoying life. She applied her mind to find out what she could best do with herself and her money. "I might have bought a landed estate to be inherited by--nobody; or a house in Belgravia, and an opera-box, to be shared by--nobody. We all have our pet luxuries; none of these were exactly mine." "No," assented Hilary, somewhat abstractedly. She was thinking--if she could make a fortune, and--and give it away!--if, by any means, any honorable, upright heart could be made to understand that it did not signify, in reality, which side the money came from; that it sometimes showed deeper, the very deepest attachment, when a proud, poor man had self-respect and courage enough to say to a woman, "I love you, and I will marry you; I am not such a coward as to be afraid of your gold." But, oh! what a ridiculous dream!--and she sat there, the penniless Hilary Leaf, listening to Miss Balquidder, the rich lady, whose life seemed so easy. For the moment, perhaps, her own appeared hard. But she had hope, and she was young. She knew nothing of the years and years that had had to be lived through before those kind eyes looked as clear and cloudless as now; before the voice had gained the sweet evenness of tone which she liked to listen to, and felt that it made her quiet and "good," almost like Johanna's. "You see, my dear," said Miss Balquidder, "when one has no duties, one must just make them; when we have nobody to care for us, we must take to caring for every body. I suppose"--here a slight pause indicated that this life, like all women's lives, had had its tale, now long, long told--"I suppose I was not meant to be a wife; but I am quite certain I was meant to be a mother. And"--with her peculiar, bright, humorous look--"you'd be astonished, Miss Leaf, if you knew what lots of 'children' I have in all parts of the world."