“I had heard something of that, and I said to myself, 'Now will Mary Martin display her real character. No longer carried away by the mere enthusiasm of her great power and her high station, not exalted to herself by the flatteries around her, we shall see whether the sterling qualities of her nature will not supply higher and greater resources than all the credit at a banker's!' I never undervalued all you did here, Mary Martin; I saw your noble purpose, even in failures; but I always felt that to make these efforts react favorably on yourself, there should be something of sacrifice. To do good was a luxury to you; and it was a luxury very easy to purchase. You were rich, you were powerful; none controlled you. Your benefits were acknowledged with all the enthusiasm of peasant gratitude. Why should you not be beneficent? what other course of conduct could bring you one half the pleasure? For the future, it is from another source you must dispense wealth; but happily it is one which there is no exhausting, for the heart exercised to charity has boundless stores. Let these be your riches now. Go amongst the people; learn to know them,--rather their friend than their benefactor,--and believe me that all the gold you have scattered so generously will not have sown such seeds of goodness as the meek example of your own noble submission to altered fortune. There, my dear,” said he, smiling, “I 'll say no more, lest you should tell me that I have preached half an hour already. And I may come to-morrow, you say?” “What a happiness it will be for me to speak to you!” said Mary, ardently. “There are so many things I want to say,--so much on which I need advice.” “I 'm but little practised in the ways of the world,” said he, with a gentle sigh, “but I have ever found great wisdom in an honest purpose; and then,” added he, more warmly, “it is a fine philosophy that secures us against humiliation, even in defeat!” They now walked along for some time without speaking, when a sudden angle of the path brought them directly in front of the castle. They both halted suddenly, struck, as it were, by the aspect of the spacious and splendid structure, all silent and deserted. The doors were closed, the windows shuttered,--not a living creature moved about the precincts,--and the lone flagstaff on the tower unfurled no “banner to the breeze.” Even the trimly kept parterres were beginning to show signs of neglect, and tangled flowers fell across the gravel. “What a lonely home for _her!_” muttered the old doctor to himself; then suddenly exclaimed, “Here comes some one in search of you, Miss Martin.” And a servant approached and whispered a few words in her ear. “Yes, immediately,” said she, in reply. She entreated the old man to rest himself for a while ere he continued his walk homeward; but he declined, and with an affectionate farewell they parted,--he towards the vicarage, and she to re-enter the castle.