der at the recollection, and Mary certainly
conceived a dread of the ladies of Northmoor. It was further elicited
that he meant to help Mr. Burford through all the work and arrangements
consequent on his own succession, indeed, to remain at his post either
till a successor was found, or the junior sufficiently indoctrinated to
take the place. Of course, as he said, six months' notice was due, but
Mr. Burford has waived this. During this time he meant to go to see
'poor Emma' at Westhaven, but it was not an expedition he seemed much to
relish, and he wished to defer it till he could definitely tell what it
would be in his power to do for her and her children, for whose education
he was really anxious, rejoicing that they were still young enough to be
moulded.

Then came the tea at Miss Lang's--a stately meal, when the two ladies
were grand; Lord Northmoor became shy and frozen, monosyllabic, and only
spasmodically able to utter; and Mary felt it in all her nerves and
subsided into her smallest self, under the sense that nobody ever would
do him justice.

CHAPTER VI
THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS

The next was a fortnight of strange and new experiences. Lord Northmoor
spent most of his days over the papers in the office, so much his usual
self, that Mr. Burford generally forgot, and called to him as 'Morton' so
naturally that after the first the other clerks left off sniggering.

There Sir Edward called on him, and in an interview in his sitting-room
at the office asked him to a quiet dinner, together with the solicitor;
but this was hardly a success, for Mr. Burford, being at home with the
family, did all the talking, and Frank could not but feel in the presence
of his master, and had not a word to say for himself, especially as
George and Freda looked critical, and as if 'That stick' was in their
minds, if not on their lips. The only time when he approached a thaw was
when in the hot summer evening Lady Kenton made him her companion in a
twilight stroll on the terraces, when he looked at the roses with
delight, and volunteered a question about the best sorts, saying that the
garden at Northmoor had been much neglected, and he wanted to have it in
good order, 'that is'--blushing and correcting himself--'if we can live
there.'

Lady Kenton noted the 'we' and was sorry to be here interrupted. 'We
shall do nothing with him till we get him alone,' she said. 'We must
have him apart from Mr. Burford.'

Before thi