s second name Cecil, did not rise from her chair,
but nevertheless kissed him in an affectionate dignified way when he
was brought to her. As for aunt Dora, she ran into her dear Frank's
arms, and in the very moment of that embrace whispered in his ear the
expression of her anxiety, and the panic which always followed those
rash steps which she was in the habit of taking. "Oh, my dear, I hope
you don't think I'm to blame," she said, with her lips at his ear, and
gained but cold comfort from the Curate's face. The alarming member of
the party was Miss Leonora. She rose and made two steps forward to
meet the unfortunate young man. She shook both his hands cordially,
and said she was very glad to see him, and hoped he was well. She was
the sensible sister of the three, and no doubt required all the sense
she had to manage her companions. Miss Wentworth, who had been very
pretty in her youth, was now a beautiful old lady, with snow-white
hair and the most charming smile; and Miss Dora, who was only fifty,
retained the natural colour of her own scanty light-brown locks, which
wavered in weak-minded ringlets over her cheeks; but Miss Leonora was
iron-grey, without any complexion in particular, and altogether a
harder type of woman. It was she who held in her hands the fate of
Skelmersdale and of Frank Wentworth. Her terrible glance it was which
he had imagined gleaming fierce upon his lilies--Lucy's lilies, his
Easter decorations. It was by her side the alarmed Curate was made to
sit down. It was she who took the foot of the table, and was the
gentleman of the house. Her voice was of that class of voice which may
be politely called a powerful contralto. Every way she was as alarming
a critic as ever was encountered by a Perpetual Curate, or any other
young man in trouble. Mr Wentworth said feebly that this was a very
unexpected pleasure, as he met his aunt Leonora's eye.

"I hope it _is_ a pleasure," said that penetrating observer. "To tell
the truth, I did not expect it would be; but your aunt Dora thought so,
and you know, when she sets her heart on anything, nobody can get any
peace. Not that your aunt Cecilia and I would have come on that account,
if we had not wished, for many reasons, to have some conversation with
you, and see how you are getting on."

"Quite so, Leonora," said Miss Wentworth, smiling upon her nephew, and
leaning back in her chair.

Then there was a little pause; for, after such a terrible address, i