Very shrinkingly I began, standing close to him, giving him a sketch of the circumstances (Mrs. Paler's tardy payment) that caused me to be without money; and asking him to lend me a trifle: just enough to take me back to Nulle. About a guinea, I thought, or a guinea and a half: I had a few shillings left still. Mr. Chandos seemed highly amused, smiling in the most provoking way. "Does Mrs. Paler really owe you thirty guineas?" "Yes, sir. It is half a year's salary." "Then I think she ought to pay you." "Will you lend me the trifle, sir?" "No. Not for the purpose you name. I will lend you as much as you like to put in your pocket; but not to take you to Nulle." "I must go, sir. At least I must go somewhere. And I only know the Miss Barlieus in all the world." "You wish to go because, in consequence of Emily's letter, you are deeming yourself an encumbrance at Chandos?" I made no answer in words: the colour that flushed into my cheeks was all-sufficient. "Let me speak to you confidentially," he said, taking my hand in his; "for a few minutes we will understand each other as friends. I am grieved that Emily's carelessness should have been the cause of annoyance to you; my mother will be sadly vexed when I tell her; but you must now listen to the explanation. There are certain family reasons which render it inexpedient for a stranger to be located at Chandos; even Emily herself would not at all times be welcome. Emily left you here. As the days went on, and we heard nothing from her, my mother desired me to write and inquire when she would be over, and to reprove her thoughtlessness in leaving you at Chandos, when she knew why it was more expedient that we should be alone. I simply wrote what my mother desired me; no more; and this letter of Emily's to-day is the answer to it. Now you have the whole gist of the affair. But I must ask you fully to understand that it is not to you personally my mother has an objection; on the contrary, she likes you; the objection applies to _any_ one, save its regular inmates, who may be at Chandos. Did a royal princess offer a visit here, she would be equally unwelcome. Do you understand this?" "Quite so. But, understanding it, I can only see the more necessity for my leaving." "And where would you go?" "To Nulle. To the Miss Barlieus." "No; that would not do," he said. "Emily has left you here under our charge, and we cannot part with you, except to her. You said you must be guided by me in your reading; you must be guided by me also in this." "I should only be too willing under happier circumstances. But you cannot imagine how uncomfortable is the feeling of knowing that I am intruding here in opposition to the wish of Lady Chandos." "Lady Chandos does not blame you for it; be assured of that. And I can tell you my mother has other things to think of just now than of you—or Emily either. Will you try and make yourself contented?"