hould marry money, as another
woman might be in wishing to see her son a bishop; or as the Spartan
matron, who preferred that her offspring should return on his shield,
to hearing that he had come back whole in limb but tainted in honour.
When Frank spoke of a profession, she instantly thought of what Lord
de Courcy might do for him. If he would not marry money, he might, at
any rate, be an attache at an embassy. A profession--hard work, as
a doctor, or as an engineer--would, according to her ideas, degrade
him; cause him to sink below his proper position; but to dangle at
a foreign court, to make small talk at the evening parties of a
lady ambassadress, and occasionally, perhaps, to write demi-official
notes containing demi-official tittle-tattle; this would be in proper
accordance with the high honour of a Gresham of Greshamsbury.

We may not admire the direction taken by Lady Arabella's energy on
behalf of her son, but that energy was not hypocritical.

"And now, Frank--" She looked wistfully into his face as she
addressed him, as though half afraid to go on, and begging that he
would receive with complaisance whatever she found herself forced to
say.

"Well, mother?"

"I was with Mary, yesterday."

"Yes, yes; what then? I know what your feelings are with regard to
her."

"No, Frank; you wrong me. I have no feelings against her--none,
indeed; none but this: that she is not fit to be your wife."

"I think her fit."

"Ah, yes; but how fit? Think of your position, Frank, and what means
you have of keeping her. Think what you are. Your father's only son;
the heir to Greshamsbury. If Greshamsbury be ever again more than a
name, it is you that must redeem it. Of all men living you are the
least able to marry a girl like Mary Thorne."

"Mother, I will not sell myself for what you call my position."

"Who asks you? I do not ask you; nobody asks you. I do not want you
to marry any one. I did think once--but let that pass. You are now
twenty-three. In ten years' time you will still be a young man. I
only ask you to wait. If you marry now, that is, marry such a girl as
Mary Thorne--"

"Such a girl! Where shall I find such another?"

"I mean as regards money, Frank; you know I mean that; how are you to
live? Where are you to go? And then, her birth. Oh, Frank, Frank!"

"Birth! I hate such pretence. What was--but I won't talk about it.
Mother, I tell you my word is pledged, and on no account will I be
induced to