g--not a reed shaken with the wind. You can do it;
there is nothing that Grace cannot do.'

'I know there is not,' said Louis, reverently.

'And, oh! the blessing that you would so bring on yourself and on your
dear father! You have already learnt to make him happier than I ever
looked to see him; and you must be energetic and consistent, that so he
may respect, not you, but the Power which can give you the strength.'

Louis's heart was too full to make any answer. Mrs. Ponsonby lay back
in her chair, as though exhausted by the energy with which she had
spoken the last words; and there was a long silence. He thought he
ought to go, and yet could not resolve to move. At last she
spoke--'Good-bye, Louis. Come what may, I know Mary will find in you
the--all that I have found your father.'

'Thank you, at least, for saying that,' said Louis. 'If you would only
hold out a hope--I wish it more than ever now! I do not believe that I
should ever do as well with any one else! Will you not give me any
prospect?'

'Be certain of your own heart, Louis! Nay,' as she saw his face
brighten, 'do not take that as a promise. Let me give you a few
parting words, as the motto I should like to leave with you--'Quit
yourselves like men; be strong.' And so, Louis, whatever be your fixed
and resolute purpose, so it be accordant with the Will of Heaven, you
would surely, I believe, attain it, and well do you know how I should
rejoice to see'--She broke off, and said, more feebly, 'I must not go
on any longer. Let me wish you good-bye, Louis: I have loved you only
less than my own child!'

Louis knelt on one knee beside her, held her hand, and bowed down his
face to hide the shower of tears that fell, while a mother's kiss and a
mother's blessing were on his brow.

He went down stairs, and out of the house, and took his horse from the
inn stables, without one word to any one. The ostlers said to each
other that the young Lord was in great trouble about the lady at the
Terrace.

Mary came home; and if she knew why that long walk had been urged on
her, she gave no sign. She saw her mother worn and tired, and she
restrained all perception that she was conscious that there had been
agitation. She spoke quietly of the spring flowers that she had seen,
and of the people whom she had met; she gave her mother her tea, and
moved about with almost an increase of the studied quietness of the
sick-room. Only, when Mrs. Frost came