"Well, it's a sincere one." As he looked at her strange thoughts came into his mind; his voice began to shake in a queer way. "And it is paid you by an old man who is not very wise and not very happy." As he continued to look at her his voice underwent further surprising changes. "I wish we could have had you with us. There is not one of us here fit to tie your shoe-*lace, my dear."
Such a speech gave pain rather than pleasure. She saw him a feudal chieftain, the head of a sacred order. Was it quite fit and proper that he should speak in that way to the humblest of his vassals? She would never be able to forget his words, but in that room, with the spirit of place enfolding her like some exquisite garment, she could almost have wished that they had not been uttered.
Suddenly she rose to go. As he regarded her in all the salient perfection of mind and mansion, it seemed too bitterly ironical that he should bar the door against her. Why were they not on their knees thanking heaven for such a creature!
"You must forgive us, even if Fate is not likely to," he said, thinking aloud.
"Please don't let us look at it in that way," was the quick rejoinder. "We all have our places in the world. And, after all, one ought to remember that it is very much easier to be Mary Lawrence than to be Duchess of Bridport."
The old man shook his head dolefully, and then, in spite of her earnest prayer that he should stay as he was, he rose with a great effort to say good-by. The
