ind, a child
unlike other children, just saved from the grave of his race, the last
little feeble representative of a house which had been strong and famous
in its day, was not unlike one of the feeble saplings which rustled and
swayed in the wailing autumn wind. The sunshine slanted upon the two
figures, throwing long shadows across the wet grass and copse, which
only differed from the long slim shadows of the young trees in their
steadiness as they moved along by their own impulse, instead of blowing
about at the mercy of the breeze, like the heirs of the old oaks and
beeches. The scene had a mixture of desolation and hopefulness which was
very characteristic: everything young and new, where all should have
been mature and well established, if not old--yet in the mere fact of
youth conveying a promise of victory against the winds and chills of
winter, against the storms and tribulations of life. If they survived,
the old avenue would rustle again with verdant wealth, the old house
would raise up its head; but for the present, what was wanted was warmth
and shelter and protection, tempered winds and sunshine and friends,
protection from the cold north and blighting east. The little human
sapling was the one most difficult to guard: and who can tell before
the event which alternative is best? Happily no serious question keeps
possession long of a child's brain, and the evening passed as all their
quiet evenings passed, without any further discussion. But Geoff's
question echoed in Lady Markland's mind after the child had forgotten
it and was fast asleep; "How could you and me be kind?" How was she to
repay Theo for a devotion so great? It was like the devotion of a knight
in the times of chivalry. She had said both to herself and others, many
times, how kind he was, how could she ever repay him?--like a brother.
But it was true, after all, that everybody had to be paid. How could
she reward Theo for his devotion? What could she do for him? There was
nothing within her power; she had no influence to help him on, no social
advantage, no responsive favour of any kind. He was better off, better
educated, more befriended, more surrounded, than she was. He wanted
nothing from her. How could she show her gratitude, even? "How can you
and me be kind?" she said to herself, with a forlorn pride that Geoff
always saw the heart of the difficulty. But this did not help her to any
reply.

Next morning Mr. Longstaffe, the "man of busi