not go back. And now that I have told you all this, what
is your advice to me?"

The father again sat silent, still sipping his wine. There was
nothing in his son that he could be ashamed of, nothing that he could
meet with anger, nothing that he could not love; but how should he
answer him? The fact was, that the son had more in him than the
father; this his mind and spirit were of a calibre not to be opposed
successfully by the mind and spirit of the squire.

"Do you know Mary's history?" said Mr Gresham, at last; "the history
of her birth?"

"Not a word of it," said Frank. "I did not know she had a history."

"Nor does she know it; at least, I presume not. But you should know
it now. And, Frank, I will tell it you; not to turn you from her--not
with that object, though I think that, to a certain extent, it should
have that effect. Mary's birth was not such as would become your wife
and be beneficial to your children."

"If so, father, I should have known that sooner. Why was she brought
in here among us?"

"True, Frank. The fault is mine; mine and your mother's.
Circumstances brought it about years ago, when it never occurred to
us that all this would arise. But I will tell you her history. And,
Frank, remember this, though I tell it you as a secret, a secret to
be kept from all the world but one, you are quite at liberty to let
the doctor know that I have told you. Indeed, I shall be careful to
let him know myself should it ever be necessary that he and I should
speak together as to this engagement." The squire then told his son
the whole story of Mary's birth, as it is known to the reader.

Frank sat silent, looking very blank; he also had, as had every
Gresham, a great love for his pure blood. He had said to his mother
that he hated money, that he hated the estate; but he would have been
very slow to say, even in his warmest opposition to her, that he
hated the roll of the family pedigree. He loved it dearly, though he
seldom spoke of it;--as men of good family seldom do speak of it. It
is one of those possessions which to have is sufficient. A man having
it need not boast of what he has, or show it off before the world.
But on that account he values it more. He had regarded Mary as a
cutting duly taken from the Ullathorne tree; not, indeed, as a
grafting branch, full of flower, just separated from the parent
stalk, but as being not a whit the less truly endowed with the pure
sap of that venerable trunk.