moreover, people would talk. Why should he go to the
parsonage now more frequently than he had ever done before Lucy came
there?

And then her ladyship, in reference to the same trouble, hardly knew
how to manage her invitations to the parsonage. These hitherto had
been very frequent, and she had been in the habit of thinking that
they could hardly be too much so; but now she was almost afraid
to continue the custom. She could not ask the parson and his wife
without Lucy; and when Lucy was there, her son would pass the greater
part of the evening in talking to her, or playing chess with her. Now
this did disturb Lady Lufton not a little. And then Lucy took it all
so quietly. On her first arrival at Framley she had been so shy, so
silent, and so much awestruck by the grandeur of Framley Court, that
Lady Lufton had sympathized with her and encouraged her. She had
endeavoured to moderate the blaze of her own splendour, in order
that Lucy's unaccustomed eyes might not be dazzled. But all this
was changed now. Lucy could listen to the young lord's voice by
the hour together--without being dazzled in the least. Under these
circumstances two things occurred to her. She would speak either to
her son or to Fanny Robarts, and by a little diplomacy have this evil
remedied. And then she had to determine on which step she would take.
"Nothing could be more reasonable than Ludovic." So at least she said
to herself over and over again. But then Ludovic understood nothing
about such matters; and had, moreover, a habit, inherited from his
father, of taking the bit between his teeth whenever he suspected
interference. Drive him gently without pulling his mouth about, and
you might take him anywhere, almost at any pace; but a smart touch,
let it be ever so slight, would bring him on his haunches, and then
it might be a question whether you could get him another mile that
day. So that on the whole Lady Lufton thought that the other plan
would be the best. I have no doubt that Lady Lufton was right.

She got Fanny up into her own den one afternoon, and seated her
discreetly in an easy arm-chair, making her guest take off her
bonnet, and showing by various signs that the visit was regarded as
one of great moment. "Fanny," she said, "I want to speak to you about
something that is important and necessary to mention, and yet it is
a very delicate affair to speak of." Fanny opened her eyes, and said
that she hoped that nothing was wrong. "No,