“Oh, I don’t blame you,” cried Letitia, “how could you be supposed not to think of your own advantage. What am I to you? What are we to you that you shouldn’t think of yourself first? Oh, of course you thought of yourself first. It would have been quite unnatural if you hadn’t done so. But I can’t help thinking, Mary, with little Duke upon my mind, and thinking what we must do with him, and then he must be brought up to get his own living now. I can’t help thinking if I had just said, ‘How d’ye do, Mary,’ that day. If I had taken no more notice and never thought, ‘Well, they’re very poor at the vicarage, and one person’s living would never be missed in our house, and that it might be such a thing for you.’ Oh, if I hadn’t been so silly, how different everything might have been. I don’t blame you; not the least in the world; for of course you thought first of what was to your own advantage. But I do blame myself! Oh, I do blame myself. If it hadn’t been for that you would never have seen Lord Frogmore, and how different everything would have been.” “Oh, Letitia,” cried Mary, as she had done at intervals all through this long address. The tears were pouring down her cheeks. Sometimes she hid her face in her hands; sometimes raised it to give her tormentor an appealing look, a protest against this cruelty. “Oh, Letitia, Letitia, spare me. It is not my fault. I never thought--I never believed--I would rather have died than injure you or the children. It made me ill when I first heard. To think of little Duke. Oh, Letitia, I think my heart will break!” “Oh, my dear,” said Letitia, “I know all about hearts breaking. It never stops you from having your own way. What is the use of saying you would rather die? Would you rather die with all the good things in life before you? Nonsense, Mary! Don’t talk to me as if I didn’t know all about it. Now you’ll be petted and feted and made as if there never was the like before. You and your baby--while my poor Duke, my Duke, that was the real, rightful heir----” Mrs. John burst forth in sobs and tears, and the room grew darker and darker. Mary, huddled up in a corner of the sofa, heard and saw no more. CHAPTER XXI.