“And the dear boy has come to feel it himself,” continued the mother; “he sees all the rest of the young men rushing about from one end of the world to the other, and he’s begun to ask himself, How’s that? Don’t you see, Parsons?” “Yes, my lady, it’s as plain as the eyes in one’s head,” said Parsons. “Of course, it is all because of his being so delicate when he was a child,” said the old lady. “But what a blessing it is, my lady, to see how he’s outgrown it now!” “Yes, isn’t it a blessing, Parsons! Just as strong as any of them--and well grown--a good height, and large round the chest, and all that.” “Yes, my lady,” Parsons replied. She did not commit herself, but she chimed in most satisfactorily with all that her lady said. Margaret was by no means so entirely to be trusted to. She was very doubtful of the proposed expedition, and even when she assented, as it was often necessary to do to what her aunt said, did so with so uncertain and troubled a look that Lady Piercey, by force of the opposition, was more and more rooted in her view. “It would do him all the good in the world,” she said. “I know you think he’s silly, my poor boy--not that he’s really silly, not a bit; but he does not know how to express himself; and how is he ever to learn, stuck up here at home between you and me and his poor father, Meg?” Margaret was a little taken aback by this question, and in her confusion laughed inadvertently, which made Lady Piercey very angry. “You think you are clever enough for anything, and could teach him--as well as the best!” “No, indeed,” cried Margaret; “not at all. I don’t know how young men learn---- to express themselves. I think, so far as I have seen, that there are a great many who know how to express themselves---- much worse than Gervase,” she added hastily; for after all, it was not poor Gervase’s fault, whereas it was the fault of many other men. The mother, in her jealousy for her son, was pacified by this, and shook her head. “Oh, yes,” she said, “there are many of them that are a poor lot. Gervase is---- one in ten thousand, Meg. He is a gentleman, my poor boy. He doesn’t know how to bully or make himself disagreeable. You know I am saying no more than the truth. He would do far better in the world if he made more of himself.” This required from Margaret only a murmur of assent--which she gave without too much strain of conscience; but she was unprepared for the swift following up of this concession. “So it’s your opinion, Meg--if your opinion were asked, which I don’t think likely--that your uncle and I should let him go?” “Let him go! But as you say, aunt, my opinion is not likely to be asked,” Margaret said quickly, to cover her exclamation of dismay.