'I knew of the connection, but that the family had never taken notice of my father. As to the rest I was entirely unprepared. My great-grandfather was a younger son of the first Lord Northmoor, but for some misconduct was cast off and proscribed. As you know, my grandfather and father devoted themselves to horses on the old farm, and made no pretensions to gentility. The elder branch of the family was once numerous, but it must have since dwindled till the old lord was left with only a little grandson, who died of diphtheria a short time before his grandfather.' 'Poor old man!' began Mary. 'Then--oh! do you mean that he died too?' 'Yes; he was ill before, and this was a fatal blow. It appears that he was aware that I was next in the succession, and after the boy's death had desired the solicitor to write to me as heir-at-law.' 'Heir-at-law! Frank, do you mean that you are--' she said, turning pale. 'Baron Northmoor,' he answered, 'and you, my patient Mary, will be the baroness as soon as may be.' 'Oh, Frank!'--and there was a rush of tears--'dear Frank, your hard work and cares are all over!' 'I am not sure of that,' he said gravely; 'but, at least, this long waiting is over, and I can give you everything.' 'But, oh!' she cried, sobbing uncontrollably, with her face hidden in her handkerchief. 'Mary, Mary! what does this mean? Don't you understand? There's nothing to hinder it now.' She made a gesture as if to put him back from her, and struggled for utterance. 'It is very dear, very good; but--but it can't be now. You must not drag yourself down with me.' 'That is just nonsense, Mary. You are far fitter for this than I am. You are the one joy in it to me.' 'You think so now,' she said, striving to hold herself back; 'but you won't by and by.' 'Do you think me a mere boy to change so easily?' said the new lord earnestly. 'I look on this as a heavy burthen and very serious responsibility: but it is to you whom I look to sweeten it, help me through with it, and guard me from its temptations.' 'If I could.' 'Come, Mary, I am forced to go to London immediately, and then on to the funeral. I shall miss the train if I remain another minute. Don't send me away with a sore heart. Tell me that your affection has not been worn out by these weary years.' 'You cannot think so, Frank,' she sobbed. 'You know it has only grown. I only want to do what is best for you.' 'Not another word,' he said, with a fresh kiss. 'That is all I want for the present.' He was gone, while Mary crept up to her little attic, there to weep out her agitated, uncertain feelings.