it is rash," said Frank.

"Sit down, my boy; sit down. What is it that you say you are going to
do?"

"Nothing immediately, sir," said he, rather abashed; "but as I have
made up my mind about Mary Thorne,--quite made up my mind, I think it
right to tell you."

"Oh, about Mary," said the squire, almost relieved.

And then Frank, in voluble language, which he hardly, however, had
quite under his command, told his father all that had passed between
him and Mary. "You see, sir," said he, "that it is fixed now, and
cannot be altered. Nor must it be altered. You asked me to go away
for twelve months, and I have done so. It has made no difference, you
see. As to our means of living, I am quite willing to do anything
that may be best and most prudent. I was thinking, sir, of taking a
farm somewhere near here, and living on that."

The squire sat quite silent for some moments after this communication
had been made to him. Frank's conduct, as a son, had been such that
he could not find fault with it; and, in this special matter of his
love, how was it possible for him to find fault? He himself was
almost as fond of Mary as of a daughter; and, though he too would
have been desirous that his son should relieve the estate from its
embarrassments by a rich marriage, he did not at all share Lady
Arabella's feelings on the subject. No Countess de Courcy had ever
engraved it on the tablets of his mind that the world would come to
ruin if Frank did not marry money. Ruin there was, and would be, but
it had been brought about by no sin of Frank's.

"Do you remember about her birth, Frank?" he said, at last.

"Yes, sir; everything. She told me all she knew; and Dr Thorne
finished the story."

"And what do you think of it?"

"It is a pity, and a misfortune. It might, perhaps, have been a
reason why you or my mother should not have had Mary in the house
many years ago; but it cannot make any difference now."

Frank had not meant to lean so heavily on his father; but he did do
so. The story had never been told to Lady Arabella; was not even
known to her now, positively, and on good authority. But Mr Gresham
had always known it. If Mary's birth was so great a stain upon her,
why had he brought her into his house among his children?

"It is a misfortune, Frank; a very great misfortune. It will not
do for you and me to ignore birth; too much of the value of one's
position depends upon it."

"But what was Mr Moffat's birth?" said