how pale she was and how woebegone. Some one had been vexing her, no doubt, poor child! This took the shyness out of Mr. Ashford’s voice. “I have come to make my report,” he said, in as even a tone as he could command, “about Lawrence. He has told you--that he has been with me most of the day?” “Yes.” When Lottie saw that more than this monosyllable was expected from her, she made an effort to rouse herself. “I fear it is not anything very encouraging that you have to say?” “I have two things to say, Miss Despard--if you will permit me. Did you ever read Lord Chesterfield’s Letters? But no, perhaps they are not reading for such as you. There are many wickednesses in them which would disgust you, but there is one most tragic, touching thing in them----” He made a pause; and Lottie, who was young and variable, and ready to be interested in spite of herself, looked up and asked “What is that?” “I wonder if I may say it?--it is the effort of the father to put himself--not a good man, but a fine, subtle, ambitious, aspiring spirit--into his son; and the complete and terrible failure of the attempt.” “I do not know--what that can have to do with Law and me.” “Yes. Pardon me for comparing you in your generous anxiety to a man who was not a hero. But, Miss Despard, you see what I mean. You will never put yourself into Law. He does not understand you; he is not capable of it. You must give up the attempt. I am only a new acquaintance, but I think I must be an old friend, somehow. I want you to give up the attempt.” He looked at her with such a kind comprehension and pity in his eyes, that Lottie’s heart sprang up a little from its profound depression, like a trodden-down flower, to meet this first gleam of sunshine. She did not quite see what he meant even now, but it was something that meant kindness and approval of her. “He cannot think _that_ of me!” she said to herself. “I am glad you will hear me out,” he said, with a look of relief, “for the rest is better. Law is not stupid. He would not be your brother if he were stupid. He is a little too prudent, I think. He will not hear of emigrating, because he has no money, nor of trying for the army, because he could not live on his pay. Right enough, perhaps, in both cases; but a hot-headed boy would not mind these considerations, and a fellow of resolution might succeed in either way.” “He has always been like that,” said Lottie. “You see Law does not want anything very much except to be as well off as possible. He would never make up his mind what to try for. He says, anything; and anything means---- Oh! Mr. Ashford, I want to ask you something about myself. Do you think it is just as bad and selfish of me to refuse to be--oh! a public singer? I thought I was right,” said Lottie, putting out her hands with unconscious dramatic action, as if groping her way; “but now I am all in doubt. I don’t know what to think. Is it just the same? Is it as bad of me?”