“Ah, dear papa, don’t let us think of that. I love to be with you--it’s the only comfort I have; but still I can’t forget that I have no provision. I might have to go away and work for my living, if somebody were to over-persuade you, or if you were--ill or anything. A Mrs. Piercey having to work for her living--or perhaps take a situation! I shouldn’t mind it for myself, but when I think, dear papa, of your name.” “Good Lord!” cried Sir Giles, “you must be out of your mind, my dear, to think of such a thing. My poor boy’s wife, and a good wife to him, too, if he had but lived to profit by it. That’s all nonsense, all nonsense, my dear.” “Ah, dear papa! but it would not be nonsense if I had not you to trust to,” cried Patty, laying her hand upon his arm. “It is you who are my sheet-anchor. I have not a penny of my own, not even to pay for my mourning; and I can’t earn any for myself, don’t you know, because of dear Gervase and your name--the first in the county. I couldn’t take in needlework, could I, in Greyshott? and a woman, you know, has always little expenses----” “My dear,” said Sir Giles, “have all the fal-lals you can set your face to, and send in the bills to me; you’ve nothing to do but send in the bills to me.” “Dear papa! as if I ever doubted your kindness. It is not fal-lals I am thinking of; this,” cried Patty, holding up her crape, “is not much of a fal-lal, is it? But what I am thinking of is the time to come, when I shall require to have a little provision or income or salary of my own.” “Do you mean,” cried the old man, in the half-sobbing tone into which he was betrayed by any emotion, “when--when--I’m no more; when I’m dead? Is that what you mean?” Patty stooped down and laid her face against the large old limp hand, which reposed on the arm of Sir Giles’ chair. “I hope I’ll be dead, too, before that,” she said; “for what should I have to live for then?” This, it need not be pointed out, was no answer to his question; but it seemed so, and Sir Giles was much affected and sobbed, which Patty echoed with a deep sigh or two which seemed to give a more refined expression to his feeling. He put his other hand upon her head. “Please God, we’ll see better days before that,” he said. And then Dunning came back, and a new game was begun. CHAPTER XXXIX. It was not till some days after this, that Sir Giles referred to the subject again. Patty thought it had entirely failed to make any impression on his mind, and that she must herself renew the conversation, when he surprised her by saying suddenly, as if there had been no interval, “It won’t be necessary, my dear, it won’t be necessary. As his mother, everything will be in your hands.” “Dear papa!” she cried, with a quite natural start; “how you frightened me!”