“Oh, don’t say so!” said Mary, “if you knew what it was to feel so helpless, not to be able to do anything: and just to have to live on and on dependent on your father, good for nothing, with nothing to look forward to. I am saying a great deal more to you than I ever said to anyone, Lord Frogmore. Letitia has been very kind. She asked me to come for a long visit so that I might be no expense at home.” “And reminds you of it every day,” said the old gentleman. “Oh,” said Mary, off her guard, “how should you know?--not every day--oh, no, no! Sometimes I need to be reminded, for a thing that becomes familiar one is apt to forget. They are very kind at home, and say they miss me more than the good it does them. But I know it is an ease to my father’s mind. He thinks it is one at least provided for.” “Do you think you are provided for, Miss Hill?” Mary hung her head. “I am for the moment. I am sure Letitia is very kind; but if there was any change, or when she really has to get a governess----” “Should you be sorry to go away?” “Oh, never sorry to go home,” said Mary, with a gleam of light in her face. “I’d rather starve with them than feast with others--but so long as it is an ease to poor papa’s mind. He is not so strong as he was--he is getting old.” “About my age, I suppose?” said Lord Frogmore. “Oh, a great deal more, certainly a great deal more!” cried Mary. She gave, however, a sidelong glance at Lord Frogmore’s face to make quite sure. “And he has had a hard life. That makes a man old more than years.” “You were good enough to say the same thing before,” said the old lord, “that age cannot be counted by years. That is always a pleasant thing to be said by the young to the old.” “But I am not young,” said Mary, with a little, frank laugh. “I am middle-aged, which many people think is the worst of all.” “In that case I must borrow your formula, and say age is not counted by years,” said the old gentleman. “You have a face on which peace is written. You have not had much trouble, I think, in your life.” Mary grew very serious, for this is an imputation which few people can accept without a protest. But as she was very sincere she assented, after a moment, “No; only being poor. And what is that when all the boys, thank God, have done so well?” “Is that the only trouble you can think of?” said Lord Frogmore. “The chief--the greatest. When you have to be ashamed of a brother, or to watch him going wrong, and able to do nothing, and never to trust him. There is nothing in the world so dreadful as that. I can forgive Letitia anything,” cried Mary, almost with vehemence, “when I think how well all our boys have done, and that two of the Ravelstones---- That is the most dreadful of all.” “I don’t think it will interfere with Mrs. Parke’s rest,” said Lord Frogmore, calmly. “And I saw no harm in the Australian. Will you tell me what the boys are doing who have done so well?”