Mildred now felt quite at ease with Sir Bridgnorth. His manner towards her was so kind, that she almost began to regard him in the light of a father.

“Excuse me if I ask you a few questions relative to your brother Chetwynd,” he said. “I am influenced by no impertinent curiosity, but simply by the desire to ascertain if I can be of any service to him. I am aware that a serious misunderstanding occurred between him and Mrs. Calverley at the time of your father's death; and I have also heard that he absolutely refuses to accept any allowance from her.”

“What you have heard is quite correct, Sir Bridgnorth,” replied Mildred. “Mrs. Calverley desires to allow my brother six hundred a year, and has instructed Mr. Carteret, her solicitor, to pay him the amount quarterly; but he declines to receive the money, being excessively indignant that my father should have left her the entire control of his property.”

“But what has become of your brother? What is he doing?”

“I really cannot tell you, Sir Bridgnorth,” she replied. “He came here just before poor papa's death, and remained till after the funeral; but he shut himself up in his own room, and saw no one except old Norris, the butler, who is still with us. I had no idea he was going away so suddenly, for he did not acquaint me with his intention, or even take leave of me, or I would have tried to dissuade him from the step, though I fear I should have been unsuccessful. His mind seemed a good deal disturbed by painful circumstances that had occurred—chiefly, if not entirely, of his own causing—and I dreaded to excite him still farther. I have since reproached myself for my lukewarmness, but I acted under the advice of Doctor Spencer. After his abrupt departure, he wrote to me from an hotel in London, saying he was going abroad, and in all probability should not return for two or three years; but Mr. Carteret found out that he was still in town, and sent him a cheque for three hundred pounds. The cheque was returned at once, accompanied by a letter, stating that he would accept nothing from Mrs. Calverley.”

“His conduct is inexplicable!” said Sir Bridgnorth. “But I suppose some effort has been made to communicate with him?”

“Every effort has been made, but without any satisfactory result. He left the hotel I have mentioned with the expressed intention of going abroad. Whether he really did so, we have been unable to discover. We fear he has no resources. We know from Norris, whom he took into his confidence while he was here, that he had very little money.”

“That is dreadful!” exclaimed Sir Bridgnorth. “He was pointed out to me a year or two ago, at Ascot, and I thought him a remarkably fine young man; but I was told he was very wild and extravagant—played and betted heavily.”

“He has been very extravagant, Sir Bridgnorth. Poor papa paid his debts more than once, but could never keep him in bounds. That was the reason why he left him dependent upon mamma.”

“So I understood,” said Sir Bridgnorth; “and I think he did quite right.”

“I am sure he acted for the best,” replied Mildred; “and I am quite certain Mrs. Calverley would have carried out papa's intentions had she been able, but Chetwynd thwarted their designs by his fiery and ungovernable temper. Heaven knows what will become of him!” she exclaimed, the tears starting to her eyes. “It makes me very unhappy to think of him.”

“I fear I have distressed you,” observed Sir Bridgnorth, much touched. “Perhaps I ought not to have spoken?”

“I thank you sincerely for talking to me about my poor brother,” she replied. “I may appear indifferent to him, but I am not so. I love him dearly, and would do anything for him. But I know not how to proceed. Such is the peculiarity of his temper—such his pride, that if I could find him, he would accept nothing from me if he thought it came from Mrs. Calverley. Even if he were starving, he would refuse aid from her.”

“Well, I must try what I can do,” said Sir Bridgnorth. “He can have no antipathy to me. The first thing is to discover where he is. I will see Carteret, and hear what he has to say.”

“I thank you from the bottom of my heart, Sir Bridgnorth!” cried Mildred, with effusion. “You are, indeed, a father, both to poor Chetwynd and myself!”

Just then Mrs. Calverley reappeared.

“No more on this subject before mamma, I pray, Sir Bridgnorth!” said Mildred. “It would be painful to her.”

“I will be careful.” he replied.

Mrs. Calverley came to say that luncheon was ready. And they went into the house with her.