Perhaps we cannot better convey the gradually dawning conviction of his altered fortune on his mind than by mentioning that while he canvassed these various chances, and speculated on their course, he never dwelt on the possibility of Lady Netherby's power to influence his determination. In the brief note he received from her each morning, the tone of affectionate solicitude for his health was always accompanied by some allusive hint of the “duties” recovery would impose, and each inquiry after his night's rest was linked with a not less anxious question as to how soon he might feel able to appear in public. Constitutionally susceptible of all attempts to control him, and from his childhood disposed to rebel against dictation, he limited his replies to brief accounts of his progress or inquiries after her own health, resolved in his heart that now that fortune was his own, to use the blessings it bestows according to the dictates of affection and a conscientious sense of right, and be neither the toy of a faction nor the tool of a party. In Darcy--could he but see him once more--he looked for a friend and adviser; and whatever the fortune of his suit, he felt that the Knight's counsels should be his guidance as to the future, reposing not even more trust on unswerving rectitude than the vast range of his knowledge of life, and the common-sense views he could take of the most complex as of the very simplest questions. It was now some seven weeks after his return, and Forester, for we would still desire to call him by the name our reader has known him, was sitting upon a sofa, weak and nervous, as the first day of a convalescent's appearance in the drawing-room usually is, when his servant, having deposited on the table several visiting-cards of distinguished inquirers, mentioned that the Earl of Netherby wished to pay his respects. Forester moved his head in token of assent, and his Lordship soon after entered. CHAPTER XXIX. THE DAWN OF CONVALESCENCE Stepping noiselessly over the carpet, with an air at once animated and regardful of the sick man, Lord Netherby was at Forester's side before he could arise to receive him; and pressing him gently down with both hands, said, in a voice of most silvery cadence,-- “My dear Lord--you must not stir for the world--Halford has only permitted me to see you under the strict pledge of prudence; and now, how are you? Ah! I see--weak and low. Come, you must let me speak for you, or at least interpret your answers to my own liking. We have so much to talk over, it is difficult where to begin.” “How is Lady Netherby?” said Forester, with a slight hesitation between the words. “Still very feeble and very nervous. The shock has been a dreadful one to her. You know that poor Augustus was coming home on leave--when--when this happened.” Here his Lordship sighed, but not too deeply, for he remembered that the law of primogeniture is the sworn enemy to grief.