The doctor was right, and the doctor was wrong. Penelope had indeed been so thinking, but it was not of these thoughts that she was then about to speak. The suspicion however increased her confusion and she wept. Sobbing, she exclaimed with great earnestness: “Oh no, my dear uncle! I had no such meaning, but I was going--” The doctor heeded not these words, but proceeded to say, with much tenderness of manner: “But, my dear Penelope, you should not make yourself uneasy. Foreign letters are frequently delayed and detained from a variety of causes. I dare say you will soon have a sufficient explanation of this silence. I have often had your father’s letters two or even three together, after waiting a long while, and fearing that the correspondence had ceased.” Penelope recovered her voice and more composedly replied; “Indeed, sir, it was not of Robert Darnley that I was going to speak; I was about to say that it was now time for me to go out into the world and no longer to be burdensome to you.” “Burdensome to me, my dear child, how can you think of such a thing?” “But, sir, it is painful to be in a state of dependence when one has the means of doing something for a maintenance. I am sure, my dear uncle, you would not mention the subject to me, and so I am compelled to speak first.” “A state of dependence is a state in which we all are. We must be dependent on one another, it is the ordering of a wise Providence; it is the means by which we have the development and exercise of some of our best and purest feelings. Beside, you are yet too young to teach others, you have not finished your own education, you want experience. Pray do not talk of leaving me. If you say any more on this subject I shall be afraid your home is irksome.”