protestations of
his wife, who dimly suspected that Blanche's opinion of John was not
what it had been, and was afraid that she would be so wanting in worldly
wisdom as to accept his offer. Lady Enville took her usual resource--an
injured tone and a handkerchief--while Sir Thomas sent for Blanche.

Blanche, put on her trial, faltered--coloured--and, to her mother's deep
disgust, pleaded guilty of loving John Feversham at last. Lady Enville
shed some real tears over the demoralisation of her daughter's taste.

"There is no manner of likeness, Blanche, betwixt this creature and Don
John," she urged.

"Ay, mother, there is _no_ likeness," said Blanche calmly.

"I thank Heaven for that mercy!" muttered Rachel.

"Likeness!" repeated Sir Thomas. "Jack Feversham is worth fifty Don
Johns."

"Dear heart! how is the child changed for the worser!" sobbed her
disappointed mother, who saw the coronet and fortune, on which she had
long set her heart for Blanche, fading away like a dissolving view.

"Orige, be not a fool!" growled Rachel suddenly. "But, dear heart! I
am a fool to ask thee."

There was a family tempest. But at last the minority succumbed; and
Blanche became the betrothed of John Feversham.

From the day of Jack's departure from Enville Court with Gertrude, Sir
Thomas never heard another word of his debts. Whether Jack paid them,
or compounded for them, or let them alone, or how the matter was
settled, remained unknown at Enville Court. They only heard the most
flourishing accounts of everything connected with Jack and Gertrude.
They were always well; Jack was always prospering, and on the point of
promotion to a higher step of the social ladder. Sir Thomas declared
drily, that his only wonder was that Jack was not a duke by this time,
considering how many steps he must have advanced. But Lady Gertrude
never paid another visit to Enville Court; and nobody regretted it
except Jack's step-mother. Jack's own visits were few, and made at long
intervals. His language was always magniloquent and sanguine: but he
grew more and more reserved about his private affairs, he aged fast, and
his hair was grey at a time of life when his father's had been without a
silver thread. Sir Thomas was by no means satisfied with his son's
career: but Jack suavely evaded all inquiries, and he came to the
sorrowful conclusion that nothing could be done except to pray for him.

It was late in the autumn, and the evening o