'Steadman, you are getting cowardly in your old age. The danger--such a risk as you hint at, must be growing less and less every day. After forty years of security----' 'Security' echoed Steadman, with a monosyllabic laugh which expressed intense bitterness. 'Say forty years during which I have felt myself upon the edge of a precipice every day and every hour. Security! But perhaps you are right, my lady, I am growing old and nervous, a feebler man than I was a few years ago, feebler in body and mind. Let Mr. Hammond make his home here, if it pleases your ladyship to have him. So long as I am well and able to get about there can be no danger of anything awkward happening.' Lady Maulevrier looked alarmed. 'But you have no expectation of falling ill, I hope, Steadman; you have no premonition of any malady?' 'No, my lady, none--except the malady of old age. I feel that I am not the man I once was, that is all. My brain is getting woolly, and my sight is clouded now and then. And if I were to fall ill suddenly----' 'Oh, it would be terrible, it would be a dire calamity! There is your wife, certainly, to look after things, but----' 'My wife would do her best, my lady. She is a faithful creature, but she is not--yes, without any unkindness I must say that Mrs. Steadman is not a genius!' 'Oh, Steadman, you must not fail me! I am horror-stricken at the mere idea,' exclaimed Lady Maulevrier. 'After forty years--great God! it would be terrible. Lesbia, Mary, Maulevrier! the great, malignant, babbling world outside these doors. I am hemmed round with perils. For God's sake preserve your strength. Take care of your health. You are my strong rock. If you feel that there is anything amiss with you, or that your strength is failing, consult Mr. Horton--neglect no precaution. The safety of this house, of the family honour, hangs upon you.' 'Pray do not agitate yourself, my lady,' entreated Steadman. 'I was wrong to trouble you with my fears. I shall not fail you, be sure. Although I am getting old, I shall hold out to the end.' 'The end cannot be very far off,' said Lady Maulevrier, gloomily. 'I thought that forty years ago, my lady. But you are right--the end must be near now. Yes, it must be near. And now, my lady, your orders about the wedding.'