“I want you to be quite at your ease with your aunt Clarendon,” said Lady Markham at luncheon, when the servants had left the room. “She will naturally want to know all about your father and your way of living. We have not talked very much on that subject, my dear, because, for one thing, we have not had much time; and because---- But she will want to know all the little details. And, my darling, I want just to tell you, to warn you. Poor Caroline is not very fond of me. Perhaps it is natural. She may say things to you about your mother----” “Oh no, mamma,” said Frances, looking up in her mother’s face. “You don’t know, my dear. Some people have a great deal of prejudice. Your aunt Caroline, as is quite natural, takes a different view. I wonder if I can make you understand what I mean without using words which I don’t want to use?” “Yes,” said Frances; “you may trust me, mamma; I think I understand.” Lady Markham rose and came to where her child sat, and kissed her tenderly. “My dear, I think you will be a great comfort to me,” she said. “Constance was always hot-headed. She would not make friends, when I wished her to make friends. The Clarendons are very rich; they have no children, Frances. Naturally, I wish you to stand well with them. Besides, I would not allow her to suppose for a moment that I would keep you from her--that is what I call conscience, and Markham pride.” Frances did not know what to reply. She did not understand what the wealth of the Clarendons had to do with it; everything else she could understand. She was very willing, nay, eager to see her father’s sister, yet very determined that no one should say a word to her to the detriment of her mother. So far as that went, in her own mind all was clear. CHAPTER XXIII.