e otherwise. Hers is not
only the virtue of goodness, but of stubbornness and pride."

"I believe you are right, nephew," returned my uncle, smiling for the
first time that evening. "Stubbornness is a good thing in a woman, and my
Frances has a store of it 'that might surprise one knowing her but
slightly."

"Yes," I replied. "And now, while her beauty is reaching its climax,
is the time for her to make the most of it. I know the world, uncle,
and I know the court, only too well, I am ashamed to say. But above all,
I know my cousin, and knowing also the evil state of your fortune, I
unhesitatingly urge you to seize the opportunity presented by the Duchess
of York. She is a good woman and my dear friend. Frances will be under
her care and mine. Of my care I need not boast. It shall be that of a
brother. But Frances will need no one's care for long. She will soon find
a husband, rich and of high rank, and then--"

"Would you send my girl out angling for a husband?" asked Sir Richard.

"Yes, if you insist on putting it so," I replied. "What is every girl
doing? What else is every good mother doing for her daughter? Marriage
is the one way in which a gentlewoman may find settlement in life.
Frances has no mother. Let us help her to win the happiness she deserves.
'Angling' is an ugly word, and in Frances's case is not the right one.
Great men and rich men will soon be angling for her. Let us place her
where the bait is worth taking. Let us not mince matters, but admit
between ourselves that we are sending Frances to court to make a good
marriage. No one less than a rich duke or a wealthy earl will satisfy
me. If you wish to allow a mere jealous fear in your heart to blight her
prospects, she will be the sufferer, and hereafter may thank your folly
for her misfortune."

Sir Richard remained silent a moment or two and then spoke tremulously:
"The saddest thing about age is its hesitancy, its doubts, its fears."
Here the tears began to stream down the old man's cheek as he continued:
"Through all my misfortunes Frances has been my joy, my solace. Sarah is
a good daughter, but she lacks the ineffable tenderness, the calm, ready
sympathy of her sister. If evil were to befall Frances, my heart would
break--break." He covered his face with his hands and sobbed, murmuring
as though to himself: "My God, I fear! I fear! She is my all--all! The
king has taken everything else, and now you ask me to give her to him."

A great lump