her is not yet forty-five? His life, so to speak, is as
good as mine. I can do very well without it; all I want is to be
allowed to settle to something."

"You mean a profession."

"Yes; something of that sort."

"They are so slow, dear Frank. You, who speak French so well--I
should think my brother might get you in as attache to some embassy."

"That wouldn't suit me at all," said Frank.

"Well, we'll talk about that some other time. But I came about
something else, and I do hope you will hear me."

Frank's brow again grew black, for he knew that his mother was about
to say something which it would be disagreeable for him to hear.

"I was with Mary, yesterday."

"Well, mother?"

"Don't be angry with me, Frank; you can't but know that the fate
of an only son must be a subject of anxiety to a mother." Ah! how
singularly altered was Lady Arabella's tone since first she had taken
upon herself to discuss the marriage prospects of her son! Then how
autocratic had she been as she sent him away, bidding him, with full
command, to throw himself into the golden embraces of Miss Dunstable!
But now, how humble, as she came suppliantly to his room, craving
that she might have leave to whisper into his ears a mother's anxious
fears! Frank had laughed at her stern behests, though he had half
obeyed them; but he was touched to the heart by her humility.

He drew his chair nearer to her, and took her by the hand. But she,
disengaging hers, parted the hair from off his forehead, and kissed
his brow. "Oh, Frank," she said, "I have been so proud of you, am
still so proud of you. It will send me to my grave if I see you sink
below your proper position. Not that it will be your fault. I am sure
it will not be your fault. Only circumstanced as you are, you should
be doubly, trebly, careful. If your father had not--"

"Do not speak against my father."

"No, Frank; I will not--no, I will not; not another word. And now,
Frank--"

Before we go on we must say one word further as to Lady Arabella's
character. It will probably be said that she was a consummate
hypocrite; but at the present moment she was not hypocritical. She
did love her son; was anxious--very, very anxious for him; was proud
of him, and almost admired the very obstinacy which so vexed her to
her inmost soul. No grief would be to her so great as that of seeing
him sink below what she conceived to be his position. She was as
genuinely motherly, in wishing that he s