“The right person chosen by your mother? These are awful doctrines, Frances. You are a little revolutionary. Who taught you such terrible things?” Lady Markham laughed as she spoke, and patted the girl’s cheek more affectionately than ever, and looked at her with unclouded smiles, so that Frances took courage. “But,” the mother went on, “there was no question of choice on my part. Constance has known Claude Ramsay all her life. She liked him, so far as I knew. I supposed she had accepted him. It was not formally announced, I am happy to say; but I made sure of it, and so did everybody else--including himself, poor fellow--when, suddenly, without any warning, your sister disappeared. It was unkind to me, Frances,--oh, it was unkind to me!” And suddenly, while she was speaking, two tears appeared all at once in Lady Markham’s eyes. Frances was deeply touched by this sight. She ventured upon a caress, which as yet, except in timid return, to those bestowed upon her, she had not been bold enough to do. “I do not think Constance can have meant to be unkind,” she said. “Few people mean to be unkind,” said this social philosopher, who knew so much more than Frances. “Your aunt Clarendon does, and that makes her harmless, because one understands. Most of those who wound one, do it because it pleases themselves, without meaning anything--or caring anything--don’t you see?--whether it hurts or not.” This was too profound a saying to be understood at the first moment, and Frances had no reply to make to it. She said only by way of apology, “But Markham approved?” “My love,” said her mother, “Markham is an excellent son to me. He rarely wounds me himself--which is perhaps because he rarely does anything particular himself--but he is not always a safe guide. It makes me very happy to see that you take to him, though you must have heard many things against him; but he is not a safe guide. Hush! here are the men coming up-stairs. If Claude talks to you, be as gentle with him as you can--and sympathetic, if you can,” she said quickly, rising from her chair, and moving in her noiseless easy way to the other side. Frances felt as if there was a meaning even in this movement, which left herself alone with a vacant seat beside her; but she was confused as usual by all the novelty, and did not understand what the meaning was.