“And I the most mortal of all, you will say, at my ‘time of life,’ Randolph,” said the Squire, with a smile, which was far from genial. “I daresay you are quite right, perfectly right. I am an old man, and nobody can tell what an hour may bring forth.” “That is true at every age,” said Randolph, with professional seriousness. “The idea ought to be familiar to the youngest among us. In the midst of life we are in death. I recommend everybody over whom I have the least influence to settle their affairs, so that they may not leave a nest of domestic contentions behind them. It is only less important than needful spiritual preparation, which of course should be our first care.” “Just so,” said Mr. Musgrave. “I presume you don’t mean to bring me to book on that point?” “Certainly not, sir--unless there is any special point upon which I could be of use; but you are as well able to judge as I am, and have access to all the authorities,” said Randolph with dignity. “Besides, there is your own clergyman at hand, who is no doubt quite equal to the duties of his position. It is old Pennithorne, is it not?” he added, with a momentary lapse into a more familiar tone. “But there is no question of that. In such matters a man of your experience, sir, ought to be able to instruct the best of us.” “The bench of bishops even,” said the Squire, “sometimes I think I could--at my time of life. But that is not the question, as you say.” “No indeed--not to say that my best advice in every way is at your service, sir; but I thought very likely it would be an ease to your mind to see me, to give me any instructions or directions--in short, to feel that your nearest representative understood your wishes, whatever might happen.” Now Randolph was evidently his father’s representative, John being out of the question; and that John was absolutely out of the question, not only from external circumstances, but from the strong prejudice and prepossession against him in his father’s mind, was certain. Yet the Squire resented this assumption as much as if John had been his dearly-beloved son and apparent heir. “Thanks,” he said, “I feel your care for my comfort--but after all, you are not my direct representative.” “Sir!” cried Randolph reddening, “need I remind you of the disabilities, the privation of all natural rights----” “You need not remind me of anything,” said Mr. Musgrave, getting up hurriedly. “I don’t care to discuss that question--or anything else of the kind. Suppose we go and join Mary, who must be in the drawing-room, I suppose? It is she, after all, who is really my representative, knowing everything about my affairs.” “She--is a woman,” said Randolph, with a tone of contempt. “That is undeniable--but women are not considered exactly as they used to be in such matters.” “I hope, sir,” said the clergyman, with dignity, “that neither my sister nor you add your influence to the foolish movement about women’s rights.”