quietly. I confess I can't see any
difficulty at all--if you care for me a little. That's the one thing
that matters."

"My feelings," said Jean, "don't matter at all. Even if there was
nothing else in the way, what about Davie and Jock and the dear Mhor? I
must always stick to them--at least until they don't need me any
longer."

"But Jean, beloved, you don't suppose I want to take you away from them?
There's room for them all.... I can see you at Mintern Abbas, Jean, and
there's a river there, and the hills aren't far distant--you won't find
it unhomelike--the only thing that is lacking is a railway for the
Mhor."

"Please don't," said Jean. "You hurt me when you speak like that. Do you
think I would let you burden yourself with all my family? I would never
be anything but a drag on you. You must go away, Richard Plantagenet,
and take your proper place in the world, and forget all about Priorsford
and Penny-plain, and marry someone who will help you with your career
and be a fit mistress for your great houses, and I'll just stay here.
The Rigs is my proper setting."

"Jean," said Lord Bidborough, "will you tell me--is there any other
man?"

"No. How could there be? There aren't any men in Priorsford to speak
of."

"There's Lewis Elliot."

Jean stared. "You don't suppose _Lewis_ wants to marry me, do you? Men
are the _stupidest_ things! Don't you know that Lewis...."

"What?"

"Nothing. Only you needn't think he ever looks the road I'm on. What a
horrid conversation this is! It's a great mistake ever to mention love
and marriage. It makes the nicest people silly. I simply daren't think
what Jock would say if he heard us. He would be what Bella Bathgate
calls 'black affrontit.'"

"Jean, will it always matter to you more than anything in the world what
David and Jock and Mhor think? Will you never care for anyone as you
care for them?"

"But they are my charge," Jean explained. "They were left to me. Mother
said, before she went away that last time, 'I trust you, Jean, to look
after the boys,' and when father didn't come back, and Great-aunt Alison
died, they had only me."

"Can't you adopt me as well? Do you know, Penny-plain, I believe it is
all the fault of your Great-aunt Alison. You are thinking that on your
death-bed you will like to feel that you sacrificed yourself to
others--"

"Oh," cried Jean, "did Pamela actually tell you about Great-aunt Alison?
That wasn't quite fair."

"She wasn't la