It had been Lady Theobald's habit to treat Lucia severely from a sense of duty. Her manner toward her had always rather the tone of implying that she was naturally at fault, and yet her ladyship could not have told wherein she wished the girl changed. In the good old school in which my lady had been trained, it was customary to regard young people as weak, foolish, and, if left to their own desires, frequently sinful. Lucia had not been left to her own desires. She had been taught to view herself as rather a bad case, and to feel that she was far from being what her relatives had a right to expect. To be thrown with a person who did not find her silly or dull or commonplace, was a new experience. "If I had been clever," Lucia said once to Mr. Burmistone,--"if I had been clever, perhaps grandmamma would have been more satisfied with me. I have often wished I had been clever." "If you had been a boy," replied Mr. Burmistone rather grimly, "and had squandered her money, and run into debt, and bullied her, you would have been her idol, and she would have pinched and starved herself to supply your highness's extravagance." When the garden-party rumor began to take definite form, and there was no doubt as to Mr. Burmistone's intentions, a discussion arose at once, and went on in every genteel parlor. Would Lady Theobald allow Lucia to go? and, if she did not allow her, would not such a course appear very pointed indeed? It was universally decided that it would appear pointed, but that Lady Theobald would not mind that in the least, and perhaps would rather enjoy it than otherwise; and it was thought Lucia would not go. And it is very likely that Lucia would have remained at home, if it had not been for the influence of Mr. Francis Barold. Making a call at Oldclough, he found his august relative in a very majestic mood, and she applied to him again for information. "Perhaps," she said, "you may be able to tell me whether it is true that Belinda Bassett--_Belinda Bassett_," with emphasis, "has been invited by Mr. Burmistone to assist him to receive his guests." "Yes, it is true," was the reply: "I think I advised it myself. Burmistone is fond of her. They are great friends. Man needs a woman at such times." "And he chose Belinda Bassett?" "In the first place, he is on friendly terms with her, as I said before," replied Barold; "in the second, she's just what he wants--well-bred, kind-hearted, not likely to make rows, _et caetera_." There was a slight pause before he finished, adding quietly, "He's not the man to submit to being refused--Burmistone." Lady Theobald did not reply, or raise her eyes from her work: she knew he was looking at her with calm fixedness, through the glass he held in its place so cleverly; and she detested this more than any thing else, perhaps because she was invariably quelled by it, and found she had nothing to say.