“No, my dear.  It is held in trust for you by Sir Frank Holster and Mr. Johnson; you to receive all moneys and benefits accruing from it”—­he spoke gently, for he almost thought her head was turned—­“but you remember you are not of age, and Mr. Johnson and I have full power.”

Ellinor sat down, helpless.

“Leave me,” she said, at length.  “You are very kind, but you don’t know all.  I cannot stand any more talking now,” she added, faintly.

Mr. Ness bent over her and kissed her forehead, and withdrew without another word.  He went to Miss Monro.

“Well! and how did you find her?” was her first inquiry, after the usual greetings had passed between them.  “It is really quite sad to see how she gives way; I speak to her, and speak to her, and tell her how she is neglecting all her duties, and it does no good.”

“She has had to bear a still further sorrow to-day,” said Mr. Ness.  “On the part of Mr. Johnson and myself I have a very painful duty to perform to you as well as to her.  Mr. Wilkins has died insolvent.  I grieve to say there is no hope of your ever receiving any of your annuity!”

Miss Monro looked very blank.  Many happy little visions faded away in those few moments; then she roused up and said, “I am but forty; I have a good fifteen years of work in me left yet, thank God.  Insolvent!  Do you mean he has left no money?”

“Not a farthing.  The creditors may be thankful if they are fully paid.”

“And Ellinor?”

“Ellinor will have the rent of this house, which is hers by right of her mother’s settlement, to live on.”

“How much will that be?”

“One hundred and twenty pounds.”

Miss Monro’s lips went into a form prepared for whistling.  Mr. Ness continued: 

“She is at present unwilling enough to leave this house, poor girl.  It is but natural; but she has no power in the matter, even were there any other course open to her.  I can only say how glad, how honoured, I shall feel by as long a visit as you and she can be prevailed upon to pay me at the Parsonage.”

“Where is Mr. Corbet?” said Miss Monro.

“I do not know.  After breaking off his engagement he wrote me a long letter, explanatory, as he called it; exculpatory, as I termed it.  I wrote back, curtly enough, saying that I regretted the breaking-off of an intercourse which had always been very pleasant to me, but that he must be aware that, with my intimacy with the family at Ford Bank, it would be both awkward and unpleasant to all parties if he and I remained on our previous footing.  Who is that going past the window?  Ellinor riding?”

Miss Monro went to the window.  “Yes!  I am thankful to see her on horseback again.  It was only this morning I advised her to have a ride!”

“Poor Dixon! he will suffer too; his legacy can no more be paid than the others; and it is not many young ladies who will be as content to have so old-fashioned a groom riding after them as Ellinor seems to be.”