Advised by the doctor, the millionaire prepared forthwith to remove to Brighton for a few weeks' fresh air; but when Audrey offered dutifully to accompany him, he refused brusquely. The father and daughter were at breakfast when she made the offer which was so rudely declined, and Sir Joseph, who prided himself on never letting the grass grow under his feet--so he put it--hinted to the girl that some day he would provide her with a stepmother. This point in the conversation he reached by easy stages, and began by advising her to cultivate Mrs. Mellop during his absence. "Now your poor mother is out of the way," growled Sir Joseph, using the adjective as a grudging concession to the dead, "you can go about with Mrs. Mellop. She's a fool, but amusing and clever in her own way. As she's a widow with a limited income, you can offer her money if you like. She'll jump at the chance of doing the season for nothing. Then you can go to the theatres, garden-parties, and all the rest of the frivolities you like." "I don't like such things," replied the girl, wearily. "I have been to so many, and they are nearly always the same--just like a stale circus. Besides, how can I go out when poor mother is scarcely cold in her grave?" "I wish you wouldn't harp on that, Audrey," snapped Branwin, irritably, and rose from his chair. "You're always talking about your mother." "Isn't it natural, papa? I loved her." "Oh, it goes without speaking that you loved her; but she had a great many faults, my dear." "Bury them with her, then," said Audrey, turning white with anger. Sir Joseph, who still retained many habits of his youth, lighted his pipe in the breakfast-room, and turned with a bullying air. "I intend to," said he, harshly, "along with all memory of her. I shall make a funeral of the whole thing. She never understood her position or my position, and was--" Audrey rose quickly, with a look of pain. "Papa," she said slowly, "I know that you did not love my mother. But she is dead, and died in a very painful way. My memory of her is concerned wholly with her kind heart and her many kind actions. Surely your recollections must be similar. You must have loved her, since you went back to Bleakleigh to marry her, after you had made your money." "I was a romantic young fool, my girl, and, seeing that I had already got the start in life, I should have left Bleakleigh and your mother alone. But I said I'd come back and marry her, and I did, more fool I. Ah!"--Sir Joseph drew a deep breath--"if I did want to make a fool of myself I should have married Flora instead of Dora." "Who is Flora?" asked Audrey. "I know that my mother's name was Dora, and--"