‘Perseverance—­your old lesson.’

’Yes; you must learn to work over the moment when novelty is gone and failure begins, even though your father should treat the matter as a crotchet of your own.  If you know it is worth doing, go on, and he will esteem you and it.’

’My poor private judgment! you work it hard! when it has generally only run me full-drive into some egregious blunder!’

’Not your true deliberate judgment, exercised with a sense of responsibility.  Humility must not cover your laziness.  You have such qualities and such talents as must be intended to do good to others, not to be trifled away in fitful exertions.  Make it your great effort to see clearly, and then to proceed steadfastly, without slackening either from weariness or the persuasions of others.’

’And you won’t let me have the one person who can see clearly, and keep me steady?’

’To be your husband, instead of your wife!  No, Louis; you must learn to take yourself on your own hands, and lean neither on your father, nor on any one else on earth, before you can be fit for Mary, or—­’

‘And if I did?’ began Louis.

‘You would make a man of yourself,’ she said, interrupting him.  ’That is the first thing—­not a reed shaken with the wind.  You can do it; there is nothing that Grace cannot do.’

‘I know there is not,’ said Louis, reverently.

’And, oh! the blessing that you would so bring on yourself and on your dear father!  You have already learnt to make him happier than I ever looked to see him; and you must be energetic and consistent, that so he may respect, not you, but the Power which can give you the strength.’

Louis’s heart was too full to make any answer.  Mrs. Ponsonby lay back in her chair, as though exhausted by the energy with which she had spoken the last words; and there was a long silence.  He thought he ought to go, and yet could not resolve to move.  At last she spoke—­’Good-bye, Louis.  Come what may, I know Mary will find in you the—­all that I have found your father.’

‘Thank you, at least, for saying that,’ said Louis.  ’If you would only hold out a hope—­I wish it more than ever now!  I do not believe that I should ever do as well with any one else!  Will you not give me any prospect?’

‘Be certain of your own heart, Louis!  Nay,’ as she saw his face brighten, ’do not take that as a promise.  Let me give you a few parting words, as the motto I should like to leave with you—­’Quit yourselves like men; be strong.’  And so, Louis, whatever be your fixed and resolute purpose, so it be accordant with the Will of Heaven, you would surely, I believe, attain it, and well do you know how I should rejoice to see’—­She broke off, and said, more feebly, ’I must not go on any longer.  Let me wish you good-bye, Louis:  I have loved you only less than my own child!’

Louis knelt on one knee beside her, held her hand, and bowed down his face to hide the shower of tears that fell, while a mother’s kiss and a mother’s blessing were on his brow.