"I do not pretend to understand you," and Mrs. Dorriman's spirit rose. This was going too far. "You break up my home; you bring me here; you deprive me of the comfort of my personal attendant--and to what end? What is the use of my being here?" "Of course you cannot understand. You cannot afford a separate house. There are certain papers your husband had, which might have made all different. You _might_," and he looked at her earnestly and anxiously, "have found receipts and be better off; but the purport of everything would have to be explained to you, and, after all that has come and gone between me and your husband, it would be as well not to let a stranger step in." Mrs. Dorriman shrank. She also had this fear; but we say a thing to ourselves that we cannot bear to put into words, and now it was dreadful to her to hear this. Her spirit died again, and she said helplessly-- "I cannot give up seeing Jean." "How did she come here?" "When I told her you would not--could not--have her here, she said nothing, but she sought and found a situation here. She has been ill; and she has had no comforts; and I _must_ see her!" There was a pause. Mrs. Dorriman looked at her brother anxiously. He was evidently thinking over something. At length he broke silence-- "What is the tie between you?" he asked, abruptly. "Has she any of your things in charge?" "Things!" she said, surprised. "No. Why, poor thing--where could she put them? No, she has no charge of anything; and the tie between us is but the tie of long service and great trustworthiness. You are a rich man, brother, and can command services; but to be poor and to be alone is to know what faithful service given you from affection is." "That is a high-flown idea," he answered; "that is the sort of thing the doctor said. I never found that sort of service available. I was also to derive much satisfaction from the society of young people. I cannot say that the society of Grace Rivers affords me any satisfaction; I think she is as disagreeable a girl as I ever came across." "She has all the lessons of life to learn," said Mrs. Dorriman, gently. "She had better learn them soon," he said, gruffly, "if she intends to remain under my roof." "If she could marry, and have a home of her own," and Mrs. Dorriman sighed, for this did not always bring happiness. "And why should she not marry?" "There is no reason, except----" and Mrs. Dorriman made a startled pause. "Well," said Mr. Sandford, "except--pray go on--you really are very trying sometimes. What upon earth are you afraid of?" "To marry, you must have a chance of seeing people." Mr. Sandford reflected upon this answer, then he said-- "You do not know it, but do you know sometimes you say very sensible things." Mrs. Dorriman smiled faintly, and left him, relieved beyond expression that nothing more had been said about Jean.