ps, he wouldn't
mind coming here. Ring the bell for me, dear. But I'm sure he'll be
very angry. I'd just write a line and ask Lord Ballindine to come and
dine here, and let him settle it all himself, only I don't think Lord
Cashel would like it."

Griffiths answered the summons, and was despatched to the book-room
to tell his lordship that her ladyship would be greatly obliged if
he would step upstairs to her for a minute or two; and, as soon as
Griffiths was gone on her errand, Fanny fled to her own apartment,
leaving her aunt in a very bewildered and pitiable state of mind: and
there she waited, with palpitating heart and weeping eyes, the effects
of the interview.

She was dreadfully nervous, for she felt certain that she would be
summoned before her uncle. Hitherto, she alone, in all the house, had
held him in no kind of awe; indeed, her respect for her uncle had not
been of the most exalted kind; but now she felt she was afraid of him.

She remained in her room much longer than she thought it would have
taken her aunt to explain what she had to say. At last, however, she
heard footsteps in the corridor, and Griffiths knocked at the door. Her
aunt would be obliged by her stepping into her room. She tried not to
look disconcerted, and asked if Lord Cashel were still there. She was
told that he was; and she felt that she had to muster up all her
courage to encounter him.

When she went into the room, Lady Cashel was still in her easy-chair,
but the chair seemed to lend none of its easiness to its owner. She
was sitting upright, with her hands on her two knees, and she looked
perplexed, distressed, and unhappy. Lord Cashel was standing with his
back to the fire-place, and Fanny had never seen his face look so
black. He really seemed, for the time, to have given over acting, to
have thrown aside his dignity, and to be natural and in earnest.

Lady Cashel began the conversation.

"Oh, Fanny," she said, "you must really overcome all this
sensitiveness; you really must. I've spoken to your uncle, and it's
quite impossible, and very unwise; and, indeed, it can't be done at
all. In fact, Lord Ballindine isn't, by any means, the sort of person I
supposed."

Fanny knit her brows a little at this, and felt somewhat less humble
than she did before. She knew she should get indignant if her uncle
abused her lover, and that, if she did, her courage would rise in
proportion. Her aunt continued--

"Your uncle's very kind a