The woman was pale with emotion.  Her reserve and sensibility shrank from what seemed to her an invidious honour, yet she durst not irritate the sick man by opposition.

‘It will make Nancy think,’ he pursued, with emphasis.  ’It will help her, perhaps, to see the difference between worthless women who put themselves forward, and the women of real value who make no pretences.  Perhaps it isn’t too late to set good examples before her.  I’ve never found her ill-natured, though she’s wilful; it isn’t her heart that’s wrong—­I hope and think not—­only her mind, that’s got stuffed with foolish ideas.  Since her grandmother’s death she’s had no guidance.  You shall talk to her as a woman can; not all at once, but when she’s used to thinking of you in this new way.’

‘You are forgetting her friends,’ Mary said at length, with eyes of earnest appeal.

’Her friends?  She’s better without such friends.  There’s one thing I used to hope, but I’ve given it up.  I thought once that she might have come to a liking for Samuel Barmby, but now I don’t think she ever will, and I believe it’s her friends that are to blame for it.  One thing I know, that she’ll never meet with any one who will make her so good a husband as he would.  We don’t think alike in every way; he’s a young man, and has the new ideas; but I’ve known him since he was a boy, and I respect his character.  He has a conscience, which is no common thing now-a-days.  He lives a clean, homely life—­and you won’t find many of his age who do.  Nancy thinks herself a thousand times too good for him; I only hope he mayn’t prove a great deal too good for her.  But I’ve given up that thought.  I’ve never spoken to her about it, and I never shall; no good comes of forcing a girl’s inclination.  I only tell you of it, Mary, because I want you to understand what has been going on.’

They heard a bell ring; that of the front door.

‘It’ll be Miss.  Nancy,’ said Mary, rising.

’Go to the door then.  If it’s Nancy, tell her I want to speak to her, and come back yourself.’

‘Mr. Lord—­’

‘Do as I tell you—­at once!’

All the latent force of Stephen’s character now declared itself.  He stood upright, his face stern and dignified.  In a few moments, Nancy entered the room, and Mary followed her at a distance.

‘Nancy,’ said the father, ’I want to tell you of a change in the house.  You know that Mary has been with us for twenty years.  You know that for a long time we haven’t thought of her as a servant, but as a friend, and one of the best possible.  It’s time now to show our gratitude.  Mary will continue to help us as before, but henceforth she is one of our family.  She will eat with us and sit with us; and I look to you, my girl, to make the change an easy and pleasant one for her.’

As soon as she understood the drift of her father’s speech, Nancy experienced a shock, and could not conceal it.  But when silence came, she had commanded herself.  An instant’s pause; then, with her brightest smile, she turned to Mary and spoke in a voice of kindness.