They went along together through the copsewood which surrounded the trim clearing of garden and tiny park in which the house was enclosed. It was brown and red with autumnal color and shining in the sun with autumn damp, the heavy dews of the morning which had settled down in the afternoon to a sort of suspended wateriness which made the bushes and the grass glisten. But it was not cold, the afternoon sun diffused a ruddy glow through the air, to which the red and yellow trees added each their suggestion of a contributed light. They had talked about the house, about the weather, so fine for the time of the year, and about Marsham Ponds, which made a picturesque point in the landscape, as they went along, and it was after a little pause that Lord Frogmore began. “I am going to say something to you, Miss Hill, which perhaps you will consider I have no right to say--but you must remember that I am an old man.” “You may say what you please, Lord Frogmore. I know it will be kind,” said Mary: and she added after a moment with a smile, “But I think it is a mistake to suppose that age can be counted merely by years.” “I am glad you are of that opinion,” said the old lord. “I sometimes think so myself; but one is never a good judge in one’s own case. Don’t you think, however, my dear young lady, that you are yourself in rather a false position here.” Mary looked at him with a quick change of color and a glance of interrogation. “You know,” he said, “I took you for the governess. I have never ceased to be ashamed----” “There was nothing to be ashamed about, Lord Frogmore. I wish I were the governess--then I should not be in a false position--but I don’t know enough to teach any one.” “Not even Duke?” he said with a smile. “You are too humble minded, Miss Hill; but that would not suit Mrs. Parke so well as having all the advantage of you as you are. May I ask, is there any relationship to give her such a claim upon you?” “Oh, no! But we are very old friends. My father is the Vicar of Grocombe, where all the Ravelstones live.” “Ah,” said Lord Frogmore, with a look of satisfaction, “that explains the familiarity of that big fellow--that Australian: not so bad a fellow as his sister seems to think.” “Oh,” cried Mary, with a shudder, “he is very rough and very coarse. He has always been the trouble of the family. I am afraid of Ralph, too; but I knew him very well as I knew them all when we were children. Letitia used to come a great deal to the vicarage----” “I will be bound she came for help for herself, not for you?” “Oh, don’t say so, please. I am sure she was fond of mamma. She had no mother of her own. And she is very kind now. Lord Frogmore, I need not conceal,” said Mary, with a sudden flush, “that we are poor. It is quite a poor living, and my father has had to send all the boys out in the world. Unfortunately, we girls have not any education or we might have helped.” “So much the better, Miss Hill.”