"A whole week, Patience, that's all," he replied, carelessly. "You see I'm busy with my studies." "That's right, dear!" she said, eagerly. "Work--work hard, and make a name in the world. "For whose sake?" he asked, a little bitterly. "For mine!" There was a world of tenderness in the way in which she spoke the words, and her eyes seemed to devour him as she gazed. He moved restlessly, and with a supreme effort plunged straight into the object of his visit. "Why not for my parents' sake?" The woman's face lost its look of tenderness, and became hard and rigid as she pressed the arms of her chair convulsively, and looked up into his face. "Who has been speaking to you about them," she asked fiercely. "Doctor Larcher." "And the reason?" "Simply this: I am two-and-twenty years of age, so it's time I had some aim in life. Before I do this I want to know all about my parentage. Are my parents alive or dead?--who are they?--why was I placed in your charge?--can they, or their relations, assist me to get on in the world? I cannot move until I know who and what I am." He spoke vehemently, and as he did so the woman seemed to shrink back into her chair with a nameless dread in her eyes. There was no sound for a moment. At last she broke the silence. "Your parents were my master and mistress," she said at length, in a low, harsh voice, "married against their parents' wish." "They were married, then?" "Who said they were not?" she demanded, fiercely. "No one. But the mystery of my birth led me to think there might be----" "Shame!" she interrupted, vehemently. "You are wrong. There was no shame--they kept the marriage secret, for if known they would have lost their property. When you were born, they went over to France for the sake of your father's health, leaving you in my charge. I was to keep you till they could acknowledge you as their son; but before they could do so they died." "Died!" "Yes. Your father died of phthisis at Cannes six months after he left England, and your mother very soon followed him to the grave." "She died of what?" "A broken heart," replied Patience, in a low voice, "a broken heart, poor soul." "Good God!" "I heard of it shortly afterwards," she went on, rapidly, "and as your birth had never been acknowledged I determined to bring you up without letting anyone know the truth. After staying some time in London, I brought you to Doctor Larcher, and he has had charge of you since." "Why did you come here?" "Because it is my native place. I only intended to stay for a time, and then return to service in London, but Squire Garsworth wanted a housekeeper, so I took the situation in order to remain near you." "Why did you not tell me this before." "There was no need to," she answered, coldly, "and even now it is useless. Your parents are dead, and the property has gone to distant heirs." "But I am the heir." She shook her head.