“Why so, more than medicine? The fact is where ordinary men are concerned any scientific profession renders Art distasteful. At least this is so in England. After all, most depends on the man himself, and, one who is born with a keen sensibility to the charms of art will carry it through life, whatever his profession may be. “But suppose the man himself has neither taste, nor sensibility, nor any appreciation of the beautiful, nor any sympathy whatever with those who love such things, what then?” Mrs. Thornton spoke earnestly as she asked this. “Well,” said Despard, “that question answers itself. As a man is born, so he is; and if nature denies him taste or sensibility it makes no difference what is his profession.” Mrs. Thornton made no reply. “My last journey,” said Despard, “was about the Brandon case. I went to London first to see if something could not be done. I had been there before on the same errand, but without success. I was equally unsuccessful this time. “I tried to find out about Potts, the man who had purchased the estate, but learned that it was necessary to go to the village of Brandon. I went there, and made inquiries. Without exception the people sympathized with the unfortunate family, and looked with detestation upon the man who had supplanted them. “I heard that a young lady went there last year who was reputed to be his daughter. Every one said that she was extraordinarily beautiful, and looked like a lady. She stopped at the inn under the care of a gentleman who accompanied her, and went to the Hall. She has never come out of it since. “The landlord told me that the gentleman was a pale, sad-looking man, with dark hair and beard. He seemed very devoted to the young lady, and parted with her in melancholy silence. His account of this young lady moved me very strangely. He was not at all a sentimental man, but a burly John Bull, which made his story all the more touching. It is strange, I must say, that one like her should go into that place and never be seen again. I do not know what to think of it, nor did any of those with whom I spoke in the village.” “Do you suppose that she really went there and never came back?” “That is what they say.” “Then they must believe that she is kept there.” “Yes, so they do.” “Why do they not take some steps in the matter?” “What can they do? She is his daughter. Some of the villagers who have been to the Hall at different times say that they heard her playing and singing.” “That does not sound like imprisonment.” “The caged bird sings.” “Then you think she is a prisoner?” “I think it odd that she has never come out, not even to go to church.” “It is odd.”