account have done it in any other instance
without her leave.

"Which I could never have granted you,"
said my lady.

But this boy had extraordinary capabilities;
would, in fact, have taught himself
much that was bad, if he had not been
rescued, and another direction given to his
powers. And in all Mr. Horner had done,
he had had her ladyship's service in view.
The business was getting almost beyond his
power, so many letters and so much account-
keeping was required by the complicated
state.

Lady Ludlow felt what was coming—a
reference to the mortgage for the benefit of
my lord's Scottish estates, which she was
perfectly aware Mr. Horner considered as
having been a most unwise proceeding—and
she hastened to inquire:

"All this may be very true, Mr. Horner,
and I am sure I should be the last person to
wish you to over-work or distress yourself;
but of that we will talk another time. What
I am now anxious to remedy is, if possible,
the state of this poor little Gregson's mind.
Would not hard work in the fields be a
wholesome and excellent way of enabling
him to forget?"

"I was in hopes, my lady, that you would
have permitted me to bring him up to act as
a kind of clerk," said Mr. Horner, jerking
out his project abruptly.

"A what?" asked my lady, in infinite
surprise.

"A kind of—of assistant in the way of
copying letters and doing up accounts. He
is already an excellent penman and very
quick at figures."

"Mr. Horner," said my lady, with dignity,
"the son of a poacher and vagabond ought
never to have been able to copy letters
relating to the Hanbury estates; and, at any
rate, he shall not. I wonder how it is that,
knowing the use he has made of his power of
reading a letter, you should venture to
propose such an employment for him as would
require his being in your confidence, and you
the trusted agent of this family. Why every
secret (and every ancient and honourable
family has its secrets, as you know, Mr.
Horner!) would be learnt off by heart, and
repeated to the first comer!"

"I should have hoped to have trained
him, my lady, to understand the rules of
discretion."

"Trained! Train a barn-door fowl to be
a pheasant, Mr. Horner! That would be the
easier task. But you did right to speak of
discretion rather than honour. Discretion
looks to the consequences of actions—honour
looks to the action itself, and is an instinct
rather than a virtue. After all, it is possible
you might have trained him to be discreet."

Mr. Horner was silent. My lady was
softened by his not replying, and began, as
she always did in such cases, to fear lest she
had been too harsh. I could tell that by her
voice and by her next speech as well as if I
had seen her face.

"But I am sorry you are feeling the pressure
of the affairs; I am quite aware that I
have entailed much additional trouble upon
you by some of my measures; I must try
and provide you with some suitable assistance.
Copying letters and doing up accounts,
I think you said?"

Mr. Horner had certainly had a distant
idea of turning the little boy, in process of
time into a clerk; but he had rather urged
this possibility of future usefulness beyond
what he had at first intended, in speaking of
it to my lady as a palliation of his offence,
and he certainly was very much inclined to
retract his statement that the letter-writing,
or any other business, had increased, or that
he was in the slightest want of help of any
kind, when my lady, after a pause of
consideration, suddenly said:

"I have it. Miss Galindo will, I am sure,
be glad to assist you. I will speak to her
myself. The payment we should make to a
clerk will be of real service to her!"

I could hardly help echoing Mr. Horner's
tone of surprise as he said:

"Miss Galindo!"

For you must be told who Miss Galindo
was; at least, told as much as I know. Miss
Galindo had lived in the village for many
years, keeping house on the smallest possible
means, yet always managing to maintain a
servant. And this servant was invariably
chosen because she had some infirmity that
made her undesirable to every one else. I
believe Miss Galindo had had lame and blind
and hump-backed maids. She had even
taken in a girl hopelessly gone in consumption
at one time as a servant because, if not,
she would have had to go to the workhouse,
and not have had enough to eat. Of course
the poor creature could not perform a single
duty usually required of a servant, and
Miss Galindo herself was both servant and
nurse.

Her present maid was scarcely four feet
high, and bore a terrible character for
ill-temper. Nobody but Miss Galindo would
have kept her; but as it was, mistress and
servant squabbled perpetually, and were, at
heart, the best of friends. For it was one of
Miss Galindo's peculiarities to do all manner
of kind and self-denying actions, and to say
all manner of provoking things. Lame,
blind, deformed, and dwarf, all came in for
scoldings without number! it was only the
consumptive girl that never had heard a
sharp word. I don't think any of her
servants liked her the worse for her peppery
temper, and passionate odd ways, for they
knew her real and beautiful kindness of
heart; and, besides, she had so great a turn
for humour, that very often her speeches
amused as much or more than they irritated;
and on the other side, a piece of witty impudence