Dashing through the open glass doors, Kate began tossing a ball on the broad gravel walk below the terrace. Mrs. Carradyne cautioned her not to break the windows, and turned to the tea-table. "Don't make the tea yet, Aunt Emma," interrupted Miss Monk, in tones that were quite like a command. "Mr. Grame is coming, and he won't care for cold tea." Mrs. Carradyne returned to her seat. She thought the opportunity had come to say something to her niece which she had been wanting to say. "You invited Mr. Grame, Eliza?" "I did," said Eliza, looking defiance. "My dear," resumed Mrs. Carradyne with some hesitation, "forgive me if I offer you a word of advice. You have no mother; I pray you to listen to me in her stead. You must change your line of behaviour to Mr. Grame." Eliza's dark face turned red and haughty. "I do not understand you, Aunt Emma." "Nay, I think you do understand me, my dear. You have incautiously allowed yourself to fall into--into an undesirable liking for Mr. Grame. An _unseemly_ liking, Eliza." "Unseemly!" "Yes; because it has not been sought. Cannot you see, Eliza, how he instinctively recedes from it? how he would repel it were he less the gentleman than he is? Child, I shrink from saying these things to you, but it is needful. You have good sense, Eliza, keen discernment, and you might see for yourself that it is not to you Mr. Grame's love is given--or ever will be." For once in her life Eliza Monk allowed herself to betray agitation. She opened her trembling lips to speak, but closed them again. "A moment yet, Eliza. Let us suppose, for argument's sake, that Mr. Grame loved you; that he wished to marry you; you know, my dear, how utterly useless it would be. Your father would not suffer it." "Mr. Grame is of gentle descent; my father is attached to him," disputed Eliza. "But Mr. Grame has nothing but his living--a hundred and sixty pounds a year; _you_ must make a match in accordance with your own position. It would be Katherine's trouble, Katherine's rebellion over again. But this was mentioned for argument's sake only; Mr. Grame will never sue for anything of the kind; and I must beg of you, my dear, to put all idea of it away, and to change your manner towards him." "Perhaps you fancy he may wish to sue for Lucy!" cried Eliza, in fierce resentment. "That is a great deal more likely than the other. And the difficulties in her case would not be so great." "And pray why, Aunt Emma?" "Because, my dear, I should not resent it as your father would. I am not so ambitious for her as he is for you." "A fine settlement for her--Robert Grame and his hundred----" "Who is taking my name in vain?" cried a pleasant voice from the open window; and Robert Grame entered. "I was," said Eliza readily; her tone changing like magic to sweet suavity, her face putting on its best charm. "About to remark that the Reverend Robert Grame has a hundred faults. Aunt Emma agrees with me."