next, in response to the tremor of light and color in the
upturned face, it would be hard to say, for here he was stopped, as it
were, by Fortune herself.

Fortune came in the form of Lady Throckmorton, fresh from Trollope's
last, and in a communicative mood.

"Ah! You are here, Denis, and you, too, Theodora? Why are you sitting in
the dark?" And, as she bent over to touch the bell, Theodora rose from
her footstool to make way for her--rose with a little sigh, as if she
had just been awakened from a dream which was neither happy nor sad.

It was very plainly Lady Throckmorton's business to see, and, seeing,
understand the affairs of her inexperienced young relative; but if Lady
Throckmorton understood that Theodora North was unconsciously
endangering the peace of her girlish heart, Lady Throckmorton was very
silent, or very indifferent about the matter. But she was not moulded
after the manner of the stern female guardians usually celebrated in
love stories. She was not mercenary, and she was by no means
authoritative. She had sent for Theo with the intention of extending to
her the worldly assistance she had extended to Pamela, and, beyond that,
the matter lay in the girl's own hands. Lady Throckmorton had no high
views for her in particular; she wanted to see her enjoy herself as much
as possible until the termination of her visit, in whatever manner it
terminated, whether matrimonially or otherwise. Besides, she was not so
young as she had been in Pamela's time, and, consequently, though she
was reasonably fond of her handsome niece, and more than usually
generous toward her, she was inclined to let her follow her own devices.
For herself, she had her luxurious little retiring-room, with its
luxurious fires and lounges; and after these, or rather with these, came
an abundance of novels, and the perfect, creamy chocolate her French
cook made such a masterpiece of--novels and chocolate standing as
elderly and refined dissipations. And not being troubled with any very
strict ideas of right or wrong, it would, by no means, have annoyed her
ladyship to know that her handsome Theodora had out-generalled her pet
grievance, Priscilla Gower. Why should not Priscilla Gower be
out-generalled, and why should not Denis marry some one who was as much
better suited to him, as Theodora North plainly was?

"Tut! tut!" she said to Sir Dugald. "Why shouldn't they be married to
each other? It would be better than Priscilla Gower, if