Even when Lady Bell forced her tripping tongue to speak Captain Fane’s name, while her eyes fell convicted, until their lashes rested on her cheeks dyed with burning blushes, she might have spared herself the trepidation and terror of instant discovery. Sunny’s mind was wool-gathering, and she did not recall her scattered faculties to make a single observation. Lady Bell would have begun to have a revulsion of feeling, and, from being chilled, would have been mortified had she not been alarmed. As the day wore on, however, Lady Bell talked and talked her friend out of her stupor, and procured a measure of response in home news. These were but vapid concerns now to Lady Bell, but she was not going to betray her conviction of their vapidness. Caro had cut ever so many teeth. The stubble chickens were ready for killing. The Spanish jasmine had survived the winter. The mayor and the good people of Lumley and Nutfield were all well, and,—oh yes, Master Charles had got his colours, and was going up to town to practise drill with the awkward squad in the reserve of his regiment, before he joined the main body somewhere in the colonies—Mrs. Sundon had forgotten exactly where. No, she could not say that she was vastly sorry for Miss Kingscote, as the young fellow was fulfilling his calling, and going where duty and the prospect of promotion, whether it were by life or death, called him. The last words, in answer to Lady Bell’s sympathetic inquiry, were spoken so shortly as to remind Lady Bell that there was a worse end than that of death in Mrs. Sundon’s experience. END OF VOL II. PRINTED BY VIRTUE AND CO., CITY ROAD, LONDON. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES Italics, bold letters and small capitals have been converted to _underscores_, =equal signs=, and ALL CAPS respectively. Perceived typos have been silently corrected. Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.