s at once, whilst Grace secretly wondered
how far she might venture to build on Alison Williams's half confidence,
and regretted the anxiety wasted by Rachel and the mother; though, to
be sure, that of Mrs. Curtis was less uncalled for than her daughter's,
since it was only the fear of Fanny's not being sufficiently guarded
against misconstructions.

Rachel held up her hands in despair in the hall. "Six officers' cards!"
she exclaimed.

"No, only six cards," said Grace; "there are two of each."

"That's enough," sighed Rachel; "and look there," gazing through the
garden-door. "She is walking with the young puppy that dined here on
Thursday, and they called Alick."

"Do you remember," said Grace, "how she used to chatter about Alick,
when she first came to us, at six years old. He was the child of one of
the officers. Can this be the same?"

"That's one of your ideas, Grace. Look, this youth could have been
hardly born when Fanny came to us. No; he is only one of the idlers that
military life has accustomed her to."

Rather against Grace's feeling, Rachel drew her on, so as to come up
with Lady Temple and her friend in the midst of their conversation, and
they heard the last words--

"Then you will give me dear Bessie's direction?"

"Thank you, it will be the greatest kindness--"

"Oh, Grace, Rachel, is it you?" exclaimed Fanny. "You have not met
before, I think. Mr. Keith--Miss Curtis."

Very young indeed were both face and figure, fair and pale, and though
there was a moustache, it was so light and silky as to be scarcely
visible; the hair, too, was almost flaxen, and the whole complexion had
a washed-out appearance. The eyes, indeed, were of the same peculiar
deep blue as the Colonel's, but even these were little seen under their
heavy sleepy lids, and the long limbs had in every movement something
of weight and slowness, the very sight of which fretted Rachel, and made
her long to shake him. It appeared that he was come to spend the Sunday
at Avonmouth, and Grace tried to extract the comfort for her mother that
two gentlemen were better than one, and Fanny need not be on their minds
for chaperonage for that day.

A party of garden-chairs on the lawn invited repose, and there the
ladies seated themselves; Fanny laying down her heavy crape bonnet,
and showing her pretty little delicate face, now much fresher and more
roseate than when she arrived, though her wide-spreading black draperies
gave a certain d