lindine now wishes--I am a bad
messenger in such a case as this, Miss Wyndham: it is, perhaps, better
to tell you at once a plain tale. Frank has desired me to tell you that
he loves you well and truly; that he cannot believe you are indifferent
to him; that your vows, to him so precious, are still ringing in his
ears; that he is, as far as his heart is concerned, unchanged; and
he has commissioned me to ascertain from yourself, whether you--have
really changed your mind since he last had the pleasure of seeing
you." The parson waited a moment for an answer, and then added, "Lord
Ballindine by no means wishes to persecute you on the subject; nor
would I do so, if he did wish it. You have only to tell me that you do
not intend to renew your acquaintance with Lord Ballindine, and I will
leave Grey Abbey." Fanny still remained silent. "Say the one word 'go',
Miss Wyndham, and you need not pain yourself by any further speech. I
will at once be gone."

Fanny strove hard to keep her composure, and to make some fitting reply
to Mr Armstrong, but she was unable. Her heart was too full; she was
too happy. She had, openly, and in spite of rebuke, avowed her love to
her uncle, her aunt, to Lady Selina, and her cousin. But she could not
bring herself to confess it to Mr Armstrong. At last she said:

"I am much obliged to you for your kindness, Mr Armstrong. Perhaps I
owe it to Lord Ballindine to--to . . . I will ask my uncle, sir, to
write to him."

"I shall write to Lord Ballindine this evening, Miss Wyndham; will you
intrust me with no message? I came from him, to see you, with no other
purpose. I must give him some news: I must tell him I have seen you.
May I tell him not to despair?"

"Tell him--tell him--" said Fanny,--and she paused to make up her mind
as to the words of her message,--"tell him to come himself." And,
hurrying from the room, she left the parson alone, to meditate on the
singular success of his mission. He stood for about half an hour,
thinking over what had occurred, and rejoicing greatly in his mind that
he had undertaken the business. "What fools men are about women!" he
said at last, to himself. "They know their nature so well when they are
thinking and speaking of them with reference to others; but as soon as
a man is in love with one himself, he is cowed! He thinks the nature
of one woman is different from that of all others, and he is afraid to
act on his general knowledge. Well; I might as well writ