She started when Dick came in, and smiled at him deprecating and humble. “I was resting a moment,” she said, with an air of apology that went to his heart. “Have you forgotten something, Dick?” “No, mother, but I’ve heard of something,” he said, taking out his letter. This made her sit upright, and flushed her cheek suddenly with a surprised alarm for which he could not account--for which, she herself could not account; for it was perhaps the first time in her life that it had occurred to her what would happen if Dick found out the secret of his own story. The possibility of Valentine doing so had crossed her mind, and she had shrunk from it. But what if Dick should find out? the idea had never entered her imagination before. “It’s a letter from Mr Ross, mother,” said Dick, steadily looking at her. “He says he has heard of a place for me at Oxford where he is himself--a place where I should be almost master at once, have everything to manage, and might succeed, and get it into my own hands. Mother! that would please you? Now to think you should like _that_ when you can’t endure this! It would be the same kind of place.” “Don’t be hard upon me, Dick,” she said, faltering, and turning away her eyes that he might not see the strange light in them--which she was herself aware must be too remarkable to be overlooked. “I can’t answer for my feelings. It’s a change, I suppose--a change that I want. My old way I can’t go back to, for more things than one. I’m too weak and old; and more than that, I’m changed in my mind. Dick, I think it will be a comfort to you to tell you. It ain’t only my limbs, boy, nor my strength. My mind’s changed; I couldn’t go on the tramp again.” “No, mother? thank God!” “I don’t thank God,” she said, shaking her head. “I am not glad; but so it is, and I want a change. Let us go, boy. Please God, I’ll be happier there.” “Mother,” said Dick, anxiously, “your looks are changed all at once. I’m going to ask you a curious question. Has it anything to do with--Mr Ross?” She made no answer for the moment, but leant her head upon her hands, and looked vaguely at the wall. “I know it’s a curious question,” repeated Dick, with an attempt at a smile. “But you were satisfied as long as he was here; and since he’s gone you have fallen back--only since he’s gone! You never got that longing sort of look while he was here. What has Mr Ross to do with you and me? Mother--don’t you suppose I think it’s anything wrong, for I don’t--but what has he to do with you and me?” “Nothing--nothing, Dick,” she cried--“nothing; never will have, never can have. Don’t ask me. When I was young, when I was a girl, I knew his--people--his--father. There, that’s all. I never meant to have said as much. There is nothing wrong. Yes, I suppose it’s him I miss somehow. Not that he is half to me, or quarter to me, that you are--or anything to me at all.”