said Lady Scroope. "I am childless, and she
is as dear to me as a daughter." Then Fred apologized, and expressed
himself as quite willing that Sophie Mellerby should live and die at
Scroope.

The evening was dreadfully dull. It had seemed to him that the house was
darker, and gloomier, and more comfortless than ever. He had hurried
over to see a dying man, and now there was nothing for him to do but to
kick his heels. But before he went to bed his ennui was dissipated by
a full explanation of all his aunt's terrors. She crept down to him at
about nine, and having commenced her story by saying that she had a
matter of most vital importance on which to speak to him, she told him
in fact all that she had heard from Lady Mary.

"She is a mischief-making gossiping old maid," said Neville angrily.

"Will you tell me that there is no truth in what she writes?" asked Lady
Scroope. But this was a question which Fred Neville was not prepared to
answer, and he sat silent. "Fred, tell me the truth. Are you married?"

"No;--I am not married."

"I know that you will not condescend to an untruth."

"If so, my word must be sufficient."

But it was not sufficient. She longed to extract from him some repeated
and prolonged assurance which might bring satisfaction to her own
mind. "I am glad, at any rate, to hear that there is no truth in that
suspicion." To this he would not condescend to reply, but sat glowering
at her as though in wrath that any question should be asked him about
his private concerns. "You must feel, Fred, for your uncle in such a
matter. You must know how important this is to him. You have heard what
he has already suffered; and you must know too that he has endeavoured
to be very good to you."

"I do know that he has,--been very good to me."

"Perhaps you are angry with me for interfering." He would not deny that
he was angry. "I should not do so were it not that your uncle is ill and
suffering."

"You have asked me a question and I have answered it. I do not know what
more you want of me."

"Will you say that there is no truth in all this that Lady Mary says?"

"Lady Mary is an impertinent old maid."

"If you were in your uncle's place, and if you had an heir as to whose
character in the world you were anxious, you would not think anyone
impertinent who endeavoured for the sake of friendship to save your
name and family from a disreputable connexion."

"I have made no disreputable connexion. I will