“Whitehall is no heaven, I admit,” I answered.  “But you don’t know Frances.  She will be as safe at court as she is in your house.  The devil is everywhere, uncle, if one chooses to seek him.”

“That is true, Ned.”

“And Frances will not seek him anywhere.  Of that I was sure before I determined to suggest this matter.  It is true she has seen nothing of life beyond the pale of your influence and protection, but you are well along in years, uncle, and must face the truth that your daughters will have to confront the world without you, sooner or later—­later, I hope.”

“That terrible truth is my only reason to fear death,” returned Sir Richard, sighing and leaning back in his chair.

“Yes, it must be a terrible thought to you,” I answered, cruelly, for the purpose of forcing my dear old antagonist into the right way of thinking.  “But it is your duty to your daughters to face it squarely, and if possible, to let it help you in preparing them to meet the world.  They may, if they will, find evil everywhere; they may avoid it anywhere.  Frances, with her marvellous beauty, is sure to meet good fortune at court, and good fortune is a great moral preservative of women.”

“Bad doctrine, Ned, bad doctrine,” said my uncle, shaking his head.

“But good truth,” I answered.  “Vice, like disease, breeds best in poverty.”

“You have just admitted that Whitehall is a nest of vice.  Wealth has not prevented it there,” returned my uncle, beating me in the argument for a moment.

But I soon rallied:  “Wealth will not help those who want to go wrong, but it has saved many a woman who wanted to be good.  However, all this argument is impertinent.  Frances is strong, and she is good, and you may rest your mind of all fear that she will ever be otherwise.  Hers is not only the virtue of goodness, but of stubbornness and pride.”

“I believe you are right, nephew,” returned my uncle, smiling for the first time that evening.  “Stubbornness is a good thing in a woman, and my Frances has a store of it ’that might surprise one knowing her but slightly.”

“Yes,” I replied.  “And now, while her beauty is reaching its climax, is the time for her to make the most of it.  I know the world, uncle, and I know the court, only too well, I am ashamed to say.  But above all, I know my cousin, and knowing also the evil state of your fortune, I unhesitatingly urge you to seize the opportunity presented by the Duchess of York.  She is a good woman and my dear friend.  Frances will be under her care and mine.  Of my care I need not boast.  It shall be that of a brother.  But Frances will need no one’s care for long.  She will soon find a husband, rich and of high rank, and then—­”

“Would you send my girl out angling for a husband?” asked Sir Richard.