as
nothing but the salary he receives from my father, and who by such a
marriage would most likely secure immediate possession of the
business, in which he is already a kind of deputy principal.

'I noticed that my stepmother was especially kind to Julian this
evening, and that she and he sat apart in one of the windows for
some time talking to each other in a low confidential tone, while my
father took his after-dinner nap. I wonder whether he told her of
our interview that afternoon?

'He went back to Shields early next morning, and bade me good-bye
quite in his usual manner; so I hoped he had forgiven me; but the
affair has left an unpleasant feeling in my mind, a sort of vague
dread of some trouble to arise out of it in the future. I cannot
forget that hard cruel look in my cousin's face.

'When he was gone, Mrs. Darrell began to praise him very warmly, and
my father spoke of him in the same tone. They talked of him a good
deal as we lingered over our breakfast, and I fancied there was some
intention with regard to me in the minds of both--they seem indeed to
think alike upon every subject. Dearly as I love my father, this is
a point upon which even his influence could not affect me. I might
be weak and yielding upon every other question, never upon this.

'And now let me tell you about my friend Peter, Rebecca Thatcher's
half-witted grandson. You know how painfully we were both struck by
the poor fellow's listless hopeless manner when we were at the
cottage on the moor. I thought of it a great deal afterwards, and it
occurred to me that our head-gardener might find work for him in the
way of weeding, and rolling the gravel paths, and such humble
matters. Brook is a good kind old man, and always ready to do
anything to please me; so I asked him the question one day in
August, and he promised that when he next wanted extra hands Peter
Thatcher should be employed, "Though I don't suppose I shall ever
make much of him, miss," he said; "but there's naught I wouldn't do
to please you."

'Well, my dear Mary, the boy came, and has done so well as quite to
surprise Brook and the other two gardeners. He has an extraordinary
attachment to me, and nothing delights him so much as to wait upon
me when I am attending to my ferns, a task I always perform myself,
as you know. To see this poor boy, standing by with a watering-pot
in one hand, and a little basket of dead leaves in the other,
watching me as breathlessly as if I