There was nothing in the world her hidden nature loved so hungrily. By comparison even her great love for Kingston was very much a matter of pride and habit. But Jim was her own, of her own body, of her own blood, the crowning achievement of her life, the visible evidence of Heaven’s approval. In himself he was altogether lovely and delightful. And beyond all that again, beyond his own personal qualities, he stood to Gundred for the other thing she most venerated and cherished in the world--the glory of March and Brakelond. When he grew up he was to resume his mother’s name, and unite the resplendency of the Mortimers with the money of the Darnleys; and then, when her father died, it was an open secret that the dignities of the House would be revived in the person of her son. Gundred felt that through her own wifely and motherly virtues she had been privileged to support the banner of March and Brakelond. It was because she had always been so humble, so devout, that such an honour had been vouchsafed her, and her son was doubly precious in her eyes, not only in himself, but as the Duke of her own providing, who should continue, from his high place, to set an example of Evangelical piety to the people of England. She shuddered at the thought of allowing her jewel to run into danger, and made haste to make it very certain to Jim that in no circumstances would he be allowed to share Ivor’s descent of Long Kern. ‘You don’t want to get wet and cold right down there in the horrid dark--no?’ concluded Gundred ingratiatingly. ‘But it won’t be wet,’ protested the boy. ‘Father has had the stream dammed about two hundred yards above the hole. Otherwise they would not have been able to go down at all. They would all have been drowned. The water is very high just now, after the rain. But, as it is, it will be quite dry down in the caves.’