armth he was capable of simulating, "do not hold me
responsible for Adrian in this matter. His strange vagaries are not of
my suggesting, heaven knows."

"Well, nephew," said Miss O'Donoghue, loftily, "if you will kindly
send the letter I am about to write to your brother, by a safe
messenger, immediately, I shall believe that it is _your_ wish to
treat me with proper respect, whatever may be Adrian's subsequent
behaviour."

Mr. Landale's countenance assumed an expression of very genuine
distress; this was just the one proof of dutiful attachment that he
was loth to bestow upon his cherished aunt.

"I see how it is," he exclaimed earnestly, coming up to the old lady,
and laying his hand gently upon her arm, "you entirely misunderstand
the situation. I am not a free agent in this matter. I cannot do what
you ask; I am bound by pledge. Adrian is, undoubtedly, more
than--peculiar on certain points, and, really, I dare not, if I would,
thwart him."

"Oh!" cried Tanty, shooting off the ejaculation as from a pop-gun.
Then, shaking herself free of Rupert's touch, she sat down abruptly in
her chair again, and began fanning herself with her handkerchief. Not
even in her interchange of amenities with Mrs. Hambledon, had Molly
seen her display so much indignation.

"You want me to believe he is mad, I suppose?" she snapped, at last.

"Dear me! No, no, no!" responded the other, in his airy way. "I did
not mean to go so far as that; but--well, there are very painful
matters, and hitherto I have avoided all discussion upon them, even
with Sophia. My affection for Adrian----"

"Fiddlesticks!" interrupted Tanty. "You meant something, I suppose;
either the man's mad, or he is not. And I, for one, don't believe a
word of it. The worst sign about him, that I can see, is the blind
confidence the poor fellow seems to put in you."

Here Molly, who had been listening to the discussion "with all her
ears"--anything connected with the mysterious personality of the
absent head of the house was beginning to have a special fascination
for her--gave an irrepressible little note of laughter.

Rupert looked up at her quickly, and their eyes met.

"Hold your tongue, Miss," cried Miss O'Donoghue, sharply; aware that
she had gone too far in her last remark, and glad to relieve her
oppression in another direction, "how dare you laugh? Sophia, this is
a terrible thing your brother wants me to believe--may I ask what
_your_ opinion is? Though