s a cousin, also. "We
must ask him, mamma," Lady Sarah said. The Marchioness whined
piteously. Mr. Houghton's name had always been held in great
displeasure by the ladies at Manor Cross. "I don't think we can help
it. Mr. Sawyer"--Mr. Sawyer was the very clever young surgeon from
Brotherton--"Mr. Sawyer says that she ought not to be removed for at
any rate a week." The Marchioness groaned. But the evil became less
than had been anticipated, by Mr. Houghton's refusal. At first, he
seemed inclined to stay, but after he had seen his wife he declared
that, as there was no danger, he would not intrude upon Lady
Brotherton, but would, if permitted, ride over and see how his wife was
progressing on the morrow. "That is a relief," said Lady Sarah to her
mother; and yet Lady Sarah had been almost urgent in assuring Mr.
Houghton that they would be delighted to have him.

In spite of her suffering, which must have been real, and her fainting,
which had partly been so, Mrs. Houghton had had force enough to tell
her husband that he would himself be inexpressibly bored by remaining
at Manor Cross, and that his presence would inexpressibly bore "all
those dowdy old women," as she called the ladies of the house.
"Besides, what's the use?" she said; "I've got to lay here for a
certain time. You would not be any good at nursing. You'd only kill
yourself with ennui. I shall do well enough, and do you go on with your
hunting." He had assented; but finding her to be well enough to express
her opinion as to the desirability of his absence strongly, thought
that she was well enough, also, to be rebuked for her late
disobedience. He began, therefore, to say a word. "Oh! Jeffrey, are you
going to scold me," she said, "while I am in such a state as this!" and
then, again, she almost fainted. He knew that he was being ill-treated,
but knowing, also, that he could not avoid it, he went away without a
further word.

But she was quite cheerful that evening when Lady George came up to
give her her dinner. She had begged that it might be so. She had known
"dear Mary" so long, and was so warmly attached to her. "Dear Mary" did
not dislike the occupation, which was soon found to comprise that of
being head nurse to the invalid. She had never especially loved
Adelaide De Baron, and had felt that there was something amiss in her
conversation when they had met at the deanery; but she was brighter
than the ladies at Manor Cross, was affectionate in her ma