‘Are you?’ said Louis, wearily.  ’I don’t think I am.  It becomes my duty—­or yours, which is a relief—­to find out the next stage.’

‘Have you no wishes?’

’Not at the present speaking, thank you.  If I went out and talked to any one, I might have too many.’

‘No views for your future life?’

’Thus far:  to do as little harm as may be—­to be of some use at home--and to make turnips grow in the upland at Inglewood, I have some vague fancy to see foreign parts, especially now they are all in such a row—­it would be such fun—­but I suppose you would not trust me there now.  Here I am for you to do as you please with me—­a gracious permission, considering that you did not want it.  Only the first practical question is how to get this money from Jem to Clara.  I should like to call on her, but I suppose that would hardly be according to the proprieties.’

’I would walk to the school with you, if you wish to see her.  My aunt will be glad to hear of her, if we go home to-morrow.’

‘Are you thinking of going home?’ exclaimed Louis, joyfully coming to life,

’Yes; but for a cause that will grieve you.  Mrs. Ponsonby is worse, and has written to ask me to come down.’

‘Materially worse?’

’I fear so.  I showed my aunt’s letter to Hastings, who said it was the natural course of the disease, but that he thought it would have been less speedy.  I fear it has been hastened by reports from Peru.  She had decided on going out again; but the agitation overthrew her, and she has been sinking ever since,’ said Lord Ormersfield, mournfully.

‘Poor Mary!’

’For her sake I must be on the spot, if for no other cause.  If I had but a home to offer her!’

Louis gave a deep sigh, and presently asked for more details of Mrs. Ponsonby’s state.

’I believe she is still able to sit up and employ herself at times, but she often suffers dreadfully.  They are both wonderfully cheerful.  She has little to regret.’

‘What a loss she will be!  Oh, father! what will you do without her?’

’I am glad that you have known her.  She has been more than a sister to me.  Things might have been very different, if that miserable marriage had not separated us for so many years.’

’How could it have happened?  How was it that she—­so good and wise-did not see through the man?’

’She would, if she had been left to herself; but she was not.  My mother discovered, when too late, that there had been foolish, impertinent jokes of that unfortunate trifler, poor Henry Frost, that made her imagine herself suspected of designs on me.’

‘Mary would never have attended to such folly!’ cried Louis.