“Ah! my child!” “Besides, he isn’t a benefactor at all. His private secretary died, and I stepped in to fill the post, because nobody else was handy.” “And tell me of her who pushed you forward, Evan?” “My dear sister, I’m sure I’m not ungrateful.” “No; but headstrong: opinionated. Now these people will endeavour—Oh! I have seen it in a thousand little things—they wish to shake us off. Now, if you will but do as I indicate! Put your faith in an older head, Evan. It is your only chance of society in England. For your brother-in-law—I ask you, what sort of people will you meet at the Cogglesbys? Now and then a nobleman, very much out of his element. In short, you have fed upon a diet which will make you to distinguish, and painfully to know the difference! Indeed! Yes, you are looking about for Rose. It depends upon your behaviour now, whether you are to see her at all in England. Do you forget? You wished once to inform her of your origin. Think of her words at the breakfast this morning!” The Countess imagined she had produced an impression. Evan said: “Yes, and I should have liked to have told her this morning that I’m myself nothing more than the son of a—” “Stop! cried his sister, glancing about in horror. The admiring lieutenant met her eye. Blandishingly she smiled on him: “Most beautiful weather for a welcome to dear England?” and passed with majesty. “Boy!” she resumed, “are you mad?” “I hate being such a hypocrite, madam.” “Then you do not love her, Evan?” This may have been dubious logic, but it resulted from a clear sequence of ideas in the lady’s head. Evan did not contest it. “And assuredly you will lose her, Evan. Think of my troubles! I have to intrigue for Silva; I look to your future; I smile, Oh heaven! how do I not smile when things are spoken that pierce my heart! This morning at the breakfast!” Evan took her hand, and patted it. “What is your pity?” she sighed. “If it had not been for you, my dear sister, I should never have held my tongue.” “You are not a Harrington! You are a Dawley!” she exclaimed, indignantly. Evan received the accusation of possessing more of his mother’s spirit than his father’s in silence. “You would not have held your tongue,” she said, with fervid severity: “and you would have betrayed yourself! and you would have said you were that! and you in that costume! Why, goodness gracious! could you bear to appear so ridiculous?” The poor young man involuntarily surveyed his person. The pains of an impostor seized him. The deplorable image of the Don making confession became present to his mind. It was a clever stroke of this female intriguer. She saw him redden grievously, and blink his eyes; and not wishing to probe him so that he would feel intolerable disgust at his imprisonment in the Don, she continued: