‘Mr. Douglas is always there! but there is nothing to tell, nothing settled; what does the fellow mean? Do you suppose she is going to forego every advantage, and go dragging on for years to suit his convenience? If you tell me so----’ ‘But I don’t tell you so,’ cried Heathcote; ‘I tell you nothing--I don’t know anything. In short, if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss the question. I begin to be of your opinion, that I was a fool not to turn up a year sooner. There was nothing to keep me that I am aware of; I might as well have come sooner as later; but I don’t know that anyone is to be blamed for that.’ ‘Ah!’ said the old lawyer, rubbing his hands, ‘what a settlement that would have made! Anne would have kept her money, and little Rose her proper place and a pretty little fortune, just like herself--and probably would have married William Ashley, a very good sort of young fellow. There would have been some pleasure in arranging a settlement like that. I remember when I drew out the papers for her mother’s marriage--that was the salvation of the Mountfords--they were sliding downhill as fast as they could before that; but Miss Roper, who was the first Mrs. St. John Mountford, set all straight. You get the advantage of it more or less, Mr. Heathcote, though the connection is so distant. Even your part of the property is in a very different condition from what it was when I remember it first. And if you had--not been a fool--but had come in time and tried your chance---- Ah! however, I dare say if it had been so, something would have come in the way all the same; you would not have fancied each other, or something would have happened. But if that fellow thinks that he is to blow hot and cold with Anne----’ ‘I don’t like the mere suggestion. Pardon me,’ said Heathcote, ‘I am sure you mean nothing but love and tenderness to my cousin: but I cannot have such a thing suggested. Whatever happens to Anne Mountford, there will be nothing derogatory to her dignity; nothing beneath her own fine character, I am sure of that.’ ‘I accept the reproof,’ said Mr. Loseby, with more twinkle than usual in his spectacles, but less power of vision through them. ‘I accept the reproof. What was all heaven and earth about, Heathcote Mountford, that you were left dawdling about that wearisome Vanity Fair that you call the world, instead of coming here a year since, when you were wanted? If there is one thing more than another that wants explaining it is the matrimonial mismanagement of this world. It’s no angel that has the care of that, I’ll answer for it!’ cried the little man with comic indignation. And then he took off his spectacles and wiped them, and grasped Heathcote Mountford by the hand and entreated him to stay to dinner, which, indeed, the recluse of Mount was by no means unwilling to do. CHAPTER XXIX. CHARLEY INTERFERES.