ere the
only words he had spirit enough to utter. He drifted away aimlessly
in the direction of the shrubbery, with the part hanging open in his
hand--the most incapable of Falklands, and the most helpless of mankind.

Frank's departure left the family by themselves, and was the signal
accordingly for an attack on Mr. Vanstone's inveterate carelessness in
the exercise of his paternal authority.

"What could you possibly be thinking of, Andrew, when you gave your
consent?" said Mrs. Vanstone. "Surely my silence was a sufficient
warning to you to say No?"

"A mistake, Mr. Vanstone," chimed in Miss Garth. "Made with the best
intentions--but a mistake for all that."

"It may be a mistake," said Norah, taking her father's part, as usual.
"But I really don't see how papa, or any one else, could have declined,
under the circumstances."

"Quite right, my dear," observed Mr. Vanstone. "The circumstances, as
you say, were dead against me. Here were these unfortunate people in a
scrape on one side; and Magdalen, on the other, mad to act. I couldn't
say I had methodistical objections--I've nothing methodistical about
me. What other excuse could I make? The Marrables are respectable
people, and keep the best company in Clifton. What harm can she get
in their house? If you come to prudence and that sort of thing--why
shouldn't Magdalen do what Miss Marrable does? There! there! let the
poor things act, and amuse themselves. We were their age once--and it's
no use making a fuss--and that's all I've got to say about it."

With that characteristic defense of his own conduct, Mr. Vanstone
sauntered back to the greenhouse to smoke another cigar.

"I didn't say so to papa," said Norah, taking her mother's arm on the
way back to the house, "but the bad result of the acting, in my opinion,
will be the familiarity it is sure to encourage between Magdalen and
Francis Clare."

"You are prejudiced against Frank, my love," said Mrs. Vanstone.

Norah's soft, secret, hazel eyes sank to the ground; she said no more.
Her opinions were unchangeable--but she never disputed with anybody. She
had the great failing of a reserved nature--the failing of obstinacy;
and the great merit--the merit of silence. "What is your head running on
now?" thought Miss Garth, casting a sharp look at Norah's dark, downcast
face. "You're one of the impenetrable sort. Give me Magdalen, with all
her perversities; I can see daylight through her. You're as dark as
nig