ible, and thought for a moment of trying to persuade Miss Joliffe
that there was no need for her to see Lord Blandamer at all, unless he
summoned her. But she was of a philosophic temperament, and in a moment
had rebuked her own folly. What could any impression of Lord
Blandamer's matter to her? she would probably never see him again unless
she opened the door when he went out. Why should he think anything at
all about a commonplace lodging-house, and its inmates? And if such
trivial matters did ever enter his thoughts, a man so clever as he would
make allowance for those of a different station to himself, and would
see what a good woman her aunt was in spite of any little mannerisms.

So she made no remonstrance, but sat heroically quiet in her chair, and
re-opened "Northanger Abbey" with a determination to entirely forget
Lord Blandamer, and the foolish excitement which his visit had created.

CHAPTER EIGHT.

Miss Joliffe must have had a protracted conversation with Lord
Blandamer. To Anastasia, waiting in the kitchen, it seemed as if her
aunt would never come down. She devoted herself to "Northanger Abbey"
with fierce resolution, but though her eyes followed the lines of type,
she had no idea what she was reading, and found herself at last turning
the pages so frequently and with so much rustling as to disturb her own
reverie. Then she shut the book with a bang, got up from her chair, and
paced the kitchen till her aunt came back.

Miss Joliffe was full of the visitor's affability.

"It is _always_ the way with these really great people, my dear," she
said with effusion. "I have _always_ noticed that the nobility are
condescending; they adapt themselves so entirely to their surroundings."
Miss Joliffe fell into a common hyperbole in qualifying an isolated
action as a habit. She had never before been brought face to face with
a peer, yet she represented her first impression of Lord Blandamer's
manner as if it were a mature judgment based upon long experience of
those of his rank and position.

"I insisted on his using the presentation inkstand, and took away that
shabby little black thing; and I could see at once that the silver one
was far more like what he had been accustomed to use. He seemed to know
something about us, and even asked if the young lady who had shown him
in was my niece. That was you; he meant you, Anastasia; he asked if it
was _you_. I think he must have met dear Martin somewhe