'Did she!' cried the boy, eagerly. 'Oh, but she forgot--' and he hid
his face, the features working with anguish.

'So pleased and proud she used to look, walking with you on Saturday
afternoons.'

'Those Saturdays! They were the only walks she ever would take; but
she would always come with me.'

More followed in the same strain, and Ethel began to gather more
distinct impressions of the Ward family. She saw that her present
charge was warm and sound-hearted, and that the strength of his
affections had been chiefly absorbed by the homely housewifely
mother, comparatively little esteemed by the modernized brother and
sister. Of the loss of his father he seemed to think less; it
seemed, indeed, rather to reconcile him to that of his mother, by the
grief it spared her; and it confirmed Ethel's notion, that Mr. Ward,
a busy and dull man, paid no great attention to his children between
the plaything period and that of full development. The mother was
the home; and Averil, though Leonard showed both love for and pride
in her, had hitherto been a poor substitute, while as to Henry, there
was something in each mention of him which gave Ethel an undefined
dread of the future of the young household, and a doubt of the result
of her father's kind schemes of patronage.

At any rate, this conversation had the happy effect of banishing
constraint, and satisfying Ethel that the let-alone system was
kindness, not neglect. She was at ease in discussing fossils, though
he contributed no word, and she let him sleep or wake as he best
liked; whilst Aubrey read to her the 'Cruise of the Betsey.'