“Do you mean that you are going back to stay?” “Yes, certainly; I have made a distinct promise that I would do so. And about the children; could not you manage for the children, Fanny,—not perhaps in the house; at least not at first perhaps?” And yet during all the time that she was thus speaking and pleading for the Crawleys, she was endeavouring to imagine what might be the contents of that letter which she held between her fingers. “And is she so very ill?” asked Mrs. Robarts. “I cannot say how ill she may be, except this, that she certainly has typhus fever. They have had some doctor or doctor’s assistant from Silverbridge; but it seems to me that they are greatly in want of better advice.” “But, Lucy, will you not read your letter? It is astonishing to me that you should be so indifferent about it.” Lucy was anything but indifferent, and now did proceed to tear the envelope. The note was very short, and ran in these words,— MY DEAR MISS ROBARTS,—I am particularly anxious to see you, and shall feel much obliged to you if you can step over to me here, at Framley Court. I must apologize for taking this liberty with you, but you will probably feel that an interview here would suit us both better than one at the parsonage. Truly yours, M. LUFTON. “There; I am in for it now,” said Lucy, handing the note over to Mrs. Robarts. “I shall have to be talked to as never poor girl was talked to before; and when one thinks of what I have done, it is hard.” “Yes; and of what you have not done.” “Exactly; and of what I have not done. But I suppose I must go,” and she proceeded to re-tie the strings of her bonnet, which she had loosened. “Do you mean that you are going over at once?” “Yes; immediately. Why not? it will be better to have it over, and then I can go to the Crawleys. But, Fanny, the pity of it is that I know it all as well as though it had been already spoken; and what good can there be in my having to endure it? Can’t you fancy the tone in which she will explain to me the conventional inconveniences which arose when King Cophetua would marry the beggar’s daughter? how she will explain what Griselda went through;—not the archdeacon’s daughter, but the other Griselda?” “But it all came right with her.” “Yes; but then I am not Griselda, and she will explain how it would certainly all go wrong with me. But what’s the good when I know it all beforehand? Have I not desired King Cophetua to take himself and sceptre elsewhere?”