"My dear Lena! I cannot wonder! I blame myself excessively, for it was all through my own imprudence. You see, when dear Frank came to Rockpier, it was so delightful to renew old times, and they both seemed such children, that I candidly confess I was off my guard; but as soon as I had any suspicion, I took care to separate them, knowing that, in the state of my poor father's affairs, it would be most unjustifiable to let so mere a youth be drawn into an attachment." "Frank is no prize," said his mother with some irony. "I knew you would say that, dear Mrs. Poynsett. Pecuniarily speaking, of course, he is not; though as to all qualities of the heart and head, he is a prize in the true sense of the word. But, alas! it is a sort of necessity that poor Lena, if she marry at all, should marry to liberal means. I tell you candidly that she has not been brought up as she ought to have been, considering her expectations or no expectations. What could you expect of my poor father, with his habits, and two mere girls? I don't know whether the governess could have done anything; but I know that it was quite time I appeared. I tell you in confidence, dear Mrs. Poynsett, there was a heavy pull on my own purse before I could take them away from Rockpier; and, without blaming a mere child like poor dear Lena you can see what sort of preparation she has had for a small income." It is hard to say which tried Mrs. Poynsett's patience most, the 'dears' or the candour; and the spirit of opposition probably prompted her to say, "Frank has his share, like his brothers." "I understand, and for many girls the provision would be ample; but poor Lena has no notion of economizing--how should she? I am afraid there is no blinking it, that, dear children as they both are, nothing but wretchedness could result from their corning together; and thus I have been extremely sorry to find that the affair has been renewed." "It was not an unnatural result of their meeting again." "Ah! there I was to blame again; but no one can judge whether an attachment be real between such children. I thought, too, that Frank would be gone out into the world, and I confess I did not expect to find that he had absolutely addressed her, and kept it secret. That is what my poor father feels so much. Eleonora is his special darling, and he says he could have overlooked anything but the concealment." Maternal affection assumed the defensive; and, though the idea of concealment on the part of one of her sons was a shock, Mrs. Poynsett made no betrayal of herself, merely asking, "How did it come to light?" "I extorted the confession. I think I was justified, standing in a mother's position, as I do. I knew my vigilance had been eluded, and that your son had walked home with her after the skating; and you know very well how transparent young things are."