At Oldclough varied sentiments prevailed. Lady Theobald's manner was chiefly distinguished by an implacable rigidity. She had chosen, as an appropriate festal costume, a funereal-black _moire antique_, enlivened by massive fringes and ornaments of jet; her jewelry being chains and manacles of the latter, which rattled as she moved, with a sound somewhat suggestive of bones. Mr. Dugald Binnie, who had received an invitation, had as yet amiably forborne to say whether he would accept it, or not. He had been out when Mr. Burmistone called, and had not seen him. When Lady Theobald descended to breakfast, she found him growling over his newspaper; and he glanced up at her with a polite scowl. "Going to a funeral?" he demanded. "I accompany my granddaughter to this--this entertainment," her ladyship responded. "It is scarcely a joyous occasion, to my mind." "No need to dress yourself like that, if it isn't," ejaculated Mr. Binnie. "Why don't you stay at home, if you don't want to go? Man's all right, isn't he? Once knew a man by the name of Burmistone, myself. One of the few decent fellows I've met. If I were sure this was the same man, I'd go myself. When I find a fellow who's neither knave nor fool, I stick to him. Believe I'll send to find out. Where's Lucia?" What his opinion of Lucia was, it was difficult to discover. He had an agreeable habit of staring at her over the top of his paper, and over his dinner. The only time he had made any comment upon her, was the first time he saw her in the dress she had copied from Octavia's. "Nice gown that," he blurted out: "didn't get it here, I'll wager." "It's an old dress I remodelled," answered Lucia somewhat alarmed. "I made it myself." "Doesn't look like it," he said gruffly. Lucia had touched up another dress, and was very happy in the prospect of wearing it at the garden-party. "Don't call on grandmamma until after Wednesday," she had said to Mr. Burmistone: "perhaps she wouldn't let me go. She will be very angry, I am sure." "And you are not afraid?" "No," she answered: "I am not afraid at all. I shall not be afraid again." In fact, she had perfectly confounded her ladyship by her demeanor. She bore her fiercest glance without quailing in the least, or making any effort to evade it: under her most scathing comments she was composed and unmoved. On the first occasion of my lady's referring to her plans for her future, she received a blow which fairly stunned her. The girl rose from her chair, and looked her straight in the face unflinchingly, and with a suggestion of _hauteur_ not easy to confront. "I beg you will not speak to me of that again," she said: "I will not listen." And turning about, she walked out of the room. "This," her ladyship had said in sepulchral tones, when she recovered her breath, "this is one of the results of Miss Octavia Bassett." And nothing more had been said on the subject since.