the welfare of others was
concerned, he would have attended more.'

'Umph!'

'I am not sure that it is not his good qualities that make him so hard
to deal with. The want of selfishness and vanity seem to take away two
common springs of action, but I do believe that patience will bring out
something much higher when you have found the way to reach it.'

'That I certainly have not, if it be there!'

'To cultivate his sympathies with you,' said Mrs. Ponsonby, hesitating,
and not venturing to look into his face.

'Enough, Mary,' he said, hastily. You said the like to me once before.'

'But,' said Mrs. Ponsonby, firmly, '_here_ there is a foundation to
work on. There are affections that only need to be drawn out to make
you happy, and him--not, perhaps, what you now wish, but better than
you wish.'

His face had become hard as he answered, 'Thank you, Mary; you have
always meant the best. You have always been kind to me, and to all
belonging to me.'

Her heart ached for the father and son, understanding each other so
little, and paining each other so much, and she feared that the Earl's
mind had been too much cramped, and his feelings too much chilled, for
such softening on his part as could alone, as it seemed, prevent Louis
from being estranged, and left to his naturally fickle and indolent
disposition.

Mary had in the mean time completed her copies, and left them on the
Earl's table; and wishing neither to be thanked nor contrasted with
Louis, she put on her bonnet, to go in search of Aunt Catharine. Not
finding her in the garden, she decided on visiting old Gervas and his
wife, who had gladly caught at her offer of reading to them. The visit
over, she returned by the favourite path above Ferny dell, gathering
primroses, and meditating how to stir up Louis to finish off his rocky
steps, and make one piece of work complete. She paused at the summit
of them, and was much inclined to descend and examine what was wanting,
when she started at hearing a rustling beneath, then a low moan and an
attempt at a call. The bushes and a projecting rock cut off her view;
but, in some trepidation, she called out, 'Is any one there?' Little
did she expect the answer--

'It is I--Fitzjocelyn. Come!--I have had a fall.'

'I'm coming--are you hurt?' she cried, as with shaking limbs she
prepared to begin the descent.

'Not that way,' he called; 'it gave way--go to the left.'

She was almost disobeying; but, recal