"'Dead to me, brother; and you will never mention his name!' You should
have seen how stern your uncle looked. I was terrified."

"But the girl,--why did not he bring her here?"

"She is still in France, but he talks of going over for her; and we have
half promised to visit them both in Cumberland. But, bless me! is that
twelve? and the posset quite cold!"

"One word more, dearest mother,--one word. My father's book,--is he
still going on with it?"

"Oh yes, indeed!" cried my mother, clasping her hands; "and he must read
it to you, as he does to me,--you will understand it so well. I have
always been so anxious that the world should know him, and be proud of
him as we are,--so--so anxious! For perhaps, Sisty, if he had married
that great lady, he would have roused himself, been more ambitious,--and
I could only make him happy, I could not make him great!"

"So he has listened to you at last?"

"To me?" said my mother, shaking her head and smiling gently. "No,
rather to your Uncle Jack, who, I am happy to say, has at length got a
proper hold over him."

"A proper hold, my dear mother! Pray beware of Uncle Jack, or we shall
all be swept into a coal-mine, or explode with a grand national company
for making gunpowder out of tea-leaves!"