“You do not mean to do anything?”

“Yes, I do.”

“But what—­what?  What can you do?”

“I do not yet know.”

“You see it is of no use.  We shall only get into a scrape with all the gentlemen of the county.”

“Never mind now, Eustace,” said Harold, briefly.  But I knew the expression of his face by this time quite well enough to be certain that nothing would make him abandon the cause of his father’s old friend; and that his silence was full of the strongest determination.  I think it fascinated me, and though in my cooler senses I reverted to my old notion of Prometesky as a dangerous firebrand, I could not help feeling for and with the youth whose soul was set on delivering his friend from exile.

My turn came the next morning, before Mr. Prosser went away.  He had much to say against my making Arghouse my home, telling me that I had a full independence and could live where I pleased; but that I knew already, and had decided on the amount I ought to pay towards the housekeeping.

Then he wanted me to understand how the young men were looked upon, and the dread all the neighbourhood had of them.  I said I had shared this dread, but on better acquaintance I found it quite undeserved, and this being the case it was incumbent on their only relation to stand by them, and not shun them as if they had brought the leprosy.

This he allowed, calling it a generous feeling, if they were worthy of it.  But what greatly amazed me was his rejoicing that Eustace had proved to be the heir, since nothing was known against him, and when the other young man was gone there was hope that any little distrusts might be allayed, and that he might ultimately take his place in the county.

The other young man!  Why should there be any distrust of Harold?  I grew hot and indignant, and insisted on knowing what was meant; but Mr. Prosser declared that he knew nothing, only there were vague reports which made him rejoice that Mr. Harold Alison was not called to be the manager of the property, and would make him question whether a young lady would find it expedient to be long an inmate of the same house.

What reports could he mean?  No—­I could get no more out of him; he was too cautious to commit himself, and seemed to be satisfied by observing that if I changed my mind, I could at any time leave my nephews.

“Her nephews,” I heard him mutter to himgelf; “yes, her nephews.  No one has any right to object, and she can but judge for herself—­ there’s no harm done.”

I shall always believe, however, that he set on my friends to remonstrate, for letters began coming in, in all the senses of the imperative mood, commanding and entreating me to leave Arghouse.  There was one such as only Lord Erymanth could write.  He was an old man, and never could make short work of anything.  They say that his chief political value was to be set on when anyone was wanted to speak against time.  I know he was very dreadful at all the platforms in the county; but he was very good and conscientious, and everyone looked up to him as a sort of father of the country.