known to the Duke till something had
occurred, or some time had arrived, as to which Mr. Tregear was to be
the judge. In Mrs. Finn's opinion nothing could be more unwise, and
she said much to induce the girl to confess everything to her father
at once. But in all her arguments she was opposed by the girl's
reference to her mother. "Mamma knew it." And it did certainly seem
to Mrs. Finn as though the mother had assented to this imprudent
concealment. When she endeavoured, in her own mind, to make excuse
for her friend, she felt almost sure that the Duchess, with all
her courage, had been afraid to propose to her husband that their
daughter should marry a commoner without an income. But in thinking
of all that, there could now be nothing gained. What ought she to
do--at once? The girl, in telling her, had exacted no promise of
secrecy, nor would she have given any such promise; but yet she did
not like the idea of telling the tale behind the girl's back. It was
evident that Lady Mary had considered herself to be safe in confiding
her story to her mother's old friend. Lady Mary no doubt had had her
confidences with her mother,--confidences from which it had been
intended by both that the father should be excluded; and now she
seemed naturally to expect that this new ally should look at this
great question as her mother had looked at it. The father had been
regarded as a great outside power, which could hardly be overcome,
but which might be evaded, or made inoperative by stratagem. It was
not that the daughter did not love him. She loved him and venerated
him highly,--the veneration perhaps being stronger than the love. The
Duchess, too, had loved him dearly,--more dearly in late years than
in her early life. But her husband to her had always been an outside
power which had in many cases to be evaded. Lady Mary, though she did
not express all this, evidently thought that in this new friend she
had found a woman whose wishes and aspirations for her would be those
which her mother had entertained.

But Mrs. Finn was much troubled in her mind, thinking that it was her
duty to tell the story to the Duke. It was not only the daughter who
had trusted her, but the father also; and the father's confidence had
been not only the first but by far the holier of the two. And the
question was one so important to the girl's future happiness! There
could be no doubt that the peril of her present position was very
great.

"Mary," she s