there were forefathers. You yourself were
born amongst them, and have been like a
little queen to them ever since. I might
say, and they've never known your ladyship
do anything but what was kind and gentle;
but I'll leave fine speeches about your
ladyship to Mr. Crosse. Only you, my lady, lead
the thoughts of the parish; and save some of
them a world of trouble, for they could never
tell what was right if they had to think for
themselves. It's all quite right that they
should be guided by you, my lady,—if only
you would agree with Mr. Gray."

"Well," said my lady, "I told him only the
last day that he was here, that I would think
about it. I do believe I could make up my
mind on certain subjects better if I were
left alone, than while being constantly talked
to about them."

My lady said this in her usual soft tones;
but the words had a tinge of impatience about
them; indeed, she was more ruffled than I
had often seen her; but, checking herself in
an instant, she said:

"You don't know how Mr. Homer drags
in this subject of education apropos of everything.
Not that he says much about it at
any time: it is not his way. But he cannot
let the thing alone."

"I know why, my lady," said Miss
Galindo. "That poor lad, Harry Gregson, will
never be able to earn his livelihood in any
active way, but will be lame for life. Now,
Mr. Horner thinks more of Harry than of
any one else in the world,—except, perhaps,
your ladyship. "Was it not a pretty
companionship for my lady? "And he has
schemes of his own for teaching Harry; and
if Mr. Gray could but have his school, Mr.
Horner and he think Harry might be
schoolmaster, as your ladyship would not like to
have him coming to you as steward's clerk.
I wish your ladyship would fall into this
plan; Mr. Gray has it so at heart."

Miss Galindo looked wistfully at my lady
as she said this. But my lady only said,
drily, and rising at the same time, as if to
end the conversation:

"So! Mr. Horner and Mr. Gray seem to
have gone a long way in advance of my
consent to their plans."

"There!" exclaimed Miss Galindo, as my
lady left the room, with an apology for going
away; "I have gone and done mischief with
my long, stupid tongue. To be sure, people
plan a long way a-head of to-day; more
especially when one is a sick man, lying all
through the weary day on a sofa."

"My lady will soon get over her annoyance,"
said I, as it were apologetically. I
only stopped Miss Galindo's self-reproaches
to draw down her wrath upon myself.

"And has not she a right to be annoyed
with me, if she likes, and to keep annoyed as
long as she likes? Am I complaining of
her, that you need tell me that? Let me
tell you, I have known my lady this thirty
years; and if she were to take me by the
shoulders, and turn me out of the house, I
should only love her the more. So don't you
think to come between us with any little
mincing, peace-making speeches. I have
been a mischief-making parrot, and I like
her the better for being vexed with me. So
goodbye to you, Miss; and wait till you
know Lady Ludlow as well as I do, before
you next think of telling me she will soon
get over her annoyance!" And off Miss
Galindo went.

I could not exactly tell what I had done
wrong; but I took care never again to come
in between my lady and her by any remark
about the one to the other; for I saw that
some most powerful bond of grateful affection
made Miss Galindo almost worship my lady.

Meanwhile, Harry Gregson was limping a
little about in the village, still finding his
home in Mr. Gray's house; for there he
could most conveniently be kept under the
doctor's eye, and receive the requisite care,
and enjoy the requisite nourishment. As
soon as he was a little better, he was to go to
Mr. Horner's house; but, as the steward
lived some distance out of the way, and was
much from home, he had agreed to leave
Harry at the house to which he had first
been taken, until he was quite strong again;
and the more willingly, I suspect, from what
I heard afterwards, because Mr. Gray gave
up all the little strength of speaking which
he had, to teaching Harry in the very manner
which Mr. Horner most desired.

As for Gregson the father—he—wild man
of the woods, poacher, tinker, jack-of-all-
trades—was getting tamed by this kindness
to his child. Hitherto his hand had been
against every man, as every man's had been
against him. That affair before the justice,
which I told you about, when Mr. Gray and
even my lady had interested themselves to
get him released from unjust imprisonment,
was the first bit of justice he had ever met
with; it attracted him to the people, and
attached him to the spot on which he had but
squatted for a time. I am not sure if any of
the villagers were grateful to him for
remaining in their neighbourhood, instead of
decamping as he had often done before, for
good reasons, doubtless, of personal safety.
Harry was only one out of a brood of ten or
twelve children, some of whom had earned
for themselves no good character in service:
one, indeed, had been actually transported
for a robbery committed in a distant part of
the county; and the tale was yet told in the
village of how Gregson the father came back
from the trial in a state of wild rage, striding
through the place, and uttering oaths of
vengeance to himself, his great black eyes
gleaming out of his matted hair, and his arms
working by his side, and now and then tossed
up in his impotent despair. As I heard the
account, his wife followed him, child-laden
and weeping. After this they had vanished