And then Frank, in voluble language, which he hardly, however, had quite under his command, told his father all that had passed between him and Mary.  ‘You see, sir,’ said he, ’that it is fixed now, and cannot be altered.  Nor must it be altered.  You asked me to go away for twelve months, and I have done so.  It has made no difference, you see.  As to our means of living, I am quite willing to do anything that may be best and most prudent.  I was thinking, sir, of taking a farm somewhere near here, and living on that.’

The squire sat quite silent for some moments after this communication had been made to him.  Frank’s conduct, as a son, in this special matter of his love, how was it possible for him to find fault?  He himself was almost as fond of Mary as of a daughter; and, though he too would have been desirous that his son should receive the estate from its embarrassment by a rich marriage, he did not at all share Lady Arabella’s feelings on the subject.  No Countess de Courcy had ever engraved it on the tablets of his mind that the world would come to ruin if Frank did not marry money.  Ruin there was, and would be, but it had been brought about by no sin of Frank’s.

‘Do you remember about her birth, Frank?’ he said, at last.

’Yes, sir; everything.  She told me all she knew; and Dr Thorne finished the story.’

‘And what do you think of it?’

’It is a pity and a misfortune.  It might, perhaps, have been a reason why you or my mother should not have had Mary in the house many years ago; but it cannot make any difference now.’

Frank had not meant to lean so heavily on his father; but he did so.  The story had never been told to Lady Arabella; was not even known to her now, positively, and on good authority.  But Mr Gresham had always known it.  If Mary’s birth was so great a stain upon her, why had he brought her into his house among his children?

’It is a misfortune, Frank; a very great misfortune.  It will not do for you and me to ignore birth; too much of the value of one’s position depends on it.’

‘But what was Mr Moffat’s birth?’ said Frank, almost with scorn; ’or what Miss Dunstable’s?’ he would have added, had it not been that his father had not been concerned in that sin of wedding him to the oil of Lebanon.

’True, Frank.  But yet, what you would mean to say is not true.  We must take the world as we find it.  Were you to marry a rich heiress, were her birth even as low as that of poor Mary—­’

’Don’t call her poor Mary, father; she is not poor.  My wife will have a right to take rank in the world, however she was born.’

’Well,—­poor in that way.  But were she an heiress, the world would forgive her birth on account of her wealth.’

‘The world is very complaisant, sir.’

’You must take it as you find it, Frank.  I only say that such is the fact.  If Porlock were to marry the daughter of a shoeblack, without a farthing, he would make a mesalliance; but if the daughter of the shoeblack had half a million of money, nobody would dream of saying so.  I am stating no opinion of my own:  I am only giving you the world’s opinion.’