little of both, perhaps, but Mary was as ready as ever to sympathise,
and to rejoice in hearing that the impetuous child had grown into the
forbearing dutiful woman.

CHAPTER XXIX.

A FRESH START.

'Did you say that Mark and his wife were come to Springfield House?'

'They come the day after to-morrow,' answered Ursula. 'Mark could not
finish up the business sooner.'

'Well, I suppose we must have them to dinner for once. He has made a
fool of himself, but I won't have the Canoness complaining that I take
no notice of him; and it is easier done while he is there than when he
has got into some hole in the City--that is if he ever gets anything to
do.'

'Mr. Dutton has several situations in view for him.'

'In view. That's a large order. Or does it mean living on Dutton and
doing something nominal? I should think Dutton too old and sharp a
hand for that, though he is quartering them on himself.'

'I believe there is nothing Mr. Dutton would like better, if he thought
it right for them, but I am quite sure Mark and Annaple would not
consent.'

'Ha, ha!' and Mr. Egremont laughed. 'Their nose is not brought to the
grindstone yet! Say Saturday, then, Ursula.'

'Am I to ask Mr. Dutton?'

'Of course; I'm not going to have a tete-a-tete with Master Mark.'

So Ursula had the satisfaction of writing a more agreeable note to Mr.
Dutton than her last, and her invitation was accepted, but to her
vexation Mr. Egremont further guarded himself from anything
confidential by verbally asking Mr. Clarence Fane on that very day, and
as that gentleman was a baronet's son, she knew she should fall to his
lot at dinner, and though she was glad when this was the case at their
ordinary parties, it was a misfortune on the present occasion. She had
not seen Annaple since her marriage, except at the family gathering on
the Canon's death, when she was very much absorbed by the requirements
of the stricken household; and Nuttie expected to see her in the same
subdued condition. All Mr. Dutton had said or Mary Nugent had written
about her courage and cheerfulness had given the impression of
'patience smiling at grief,' and in a very compassionate mood she
started for a forenoon call at Springfield House; but, early as it was,
nobody was at home, unless it might be the little boy, whose voice she
thought she heard while waiting at the gate.

She was out driving with her father afterwards in the long summer
evening, and