"You are but a lad to me," continued Mrs. Dobbs. "And perhaps I've been hard on you. There's a deal of excuse to be made. You love my granddaughter, after your fashion--and nobody can love better than his best--and it's bitter not to be loved again. You'll get over it. Folks with redder blood in their veins than you, have got over it before to-day. But I know you can't think so now; and it's bitter. But if you'll take an old woman's advice--an old woman that knew your mother and grandmother, and is old enough to be your grandmother herself--you'll just make up your mind to bear a certain amount of pain without flinching:--like as if you'd got a bullet in battle, or broke your collar-bone out hunting--and turn your thoughts to helping other folks in their trouble. There's no cure for the heart-ache like that, take my word for it. Come now, you just face it like a man, and try my recipe! You've got good means and good abilities. Do some good with 'em! Some young fellows when they're out of spirits, take to climbing up mountains, slaughtering wild beasts, or getting into scrimmages with savages--by the way, I did hear that you were going into Parliament--but there's your stepmother now, with her five children, your young brothers and sisters, on her hands. Just you go in for making her life easier. There's a good work ready and waiting for you." Theodore moved his shoulder brusquely, and Mrs. Dobbs immediately withdrew her hand. He stood up and said stiffly, "I must offer you my acknowledgments for the wine you administered." Mrs. Dobbs merely waved her hand, as though putting that aside, and continued to look at him, with a grave expression, which was not without a certain broad, motherly compassion. "I presume the name of the man to whom Miss Cheffington has engaged herself is not a secret?" "It is Mrs. Hadlow's nephew; Mr. Owen Rivers," answered Mrs. Dobbs simply. He had felt as sure of what she was going to say as though he had seen the words printed before him; nevertheless, the sound of the name seemed to pierce him like a sword-blade. He drew himself up with a strong effort to be cutting and contemptuous. But as he went on speaking, he lost his self-command and prudence. "Miss Cheffington is to be congratulated, indeed! Captain Cheffington will, no doubt, be delighted at the alliance you have contrived for his daughter! Mr. Owen Rivers! A clerk in Mr. Bragg's counting-house--which, however, is probably the most respectable occupation he has ever followed! Mr. Owen Rivers, whose name is scandalously connected throughout Oldchester with that of the person you were so kind as to recommend to my good offices just now! A person whose conduct disgraces my family, and dishonours my father's memory! Mr. Owen Rivers, who----" "Hush! Hold your tongue!" cried Mrs. Dobbs, fairly clapping one hand over his mouth, and pointing with the other to the window.