“I will, if I live,” cried Mar, swinging out his long thin arm with the eloquence of nature, in the midst of the quick loud chorus of assent that burst from everybody near. “I will! If there is one thing I care for in the world it’s that. If I live I will; and if I don’t live Duke will, so that, anyhow, this family will do its best, and God will help us. I thank you all very much,” he said, after a pause. “I don’t know how to say it. I thank you for being kind to me for my father’s sake--” He made another pause. “And for Duke’s sake, who has spoken up for me more than himself. And if he turns out your landlord after all, I shan’t grudge it him for one----” Mar stood still a moment, wavering upon his long feeble limbs--and then, with a smile, burst out into the foolish chorus, that imbecility of shy enthusiasm which is all that an English crowd can find to say. There was an effort made to take it up, hindered by something in the throats of the performers at first, then bursting out in a hoarse roar, mingled with broken laughter and blowing of noses and some unconcealed tears. When in the general excitement it was possible to think of anything else than the speeches and the very unusual entertainment provided for the Frogmore tenantry by the Frogmore boys, there was a little stir at the head of the table, and it became apparent that Lady Frogmore had fainted. She was scarcely paler than she had been before, scarcely more motionless, but her sister, who had forgotten Mary for the moment, when she turned to her had found her unconscious. Indeed, for the first moment, Agnes had believed that she had lain back and died in the extraordinary sensation of this first revelation of her son. But this was not so. CHAPTER XXXIV.