“I must once more remind you, Sir Patrick, that I have serious reason to doubt whether Miss Silvester is a fit companion for Blanche. My governess has something on her mind. She has fits of crying in private. She is up and walking about her room when she ought to be asleep. She posts her own letters--_and,_ she has lately been excessively insolent to Me. There is something wrong. I must take some steps in the matter--and it is only proper that I should do so with your sanction, as head of the family.” “Consider me as abdicating my position, Lady Lundie, in your favor.” “Sir Patrick, I beg you to observe that I am speaking seriously, and that I expect a serious reply.” “My good lady, ask me for any thing else and it is at your service. I have not made a serious reply since I gave up practice at the Scottish Bar. At my age,” added Sir Patrick, cunningly drifting into generalities, “nothing is serious--except Indigestion. I say, with the philosopher, ‘Life is a comedy to those who think, and tragedy to those who feel.’” He took his sister-in-law’s hand, and kissed it. “Dear Lady Lundie, why feel?” Lady Lundie, who had never “felt” in her life, appeared perversely determined to feel, on this occasion. She was offended--and she showed it plainly. “When you are next called on, Sir Patrick, to judge of Miss Silvester’s conduct,” she said, “unless I am entirely mistaken, you will find yourself _compelled_ to consider it as something beyond a joke.” With those words, she walked out of the summer-house--and so forwarded Arnold’s interests by leaving Blanche’s guardian alone at last. It was an excellent opportunity. The guests were safe in the house--there was no interruption to be feared, Arnold showed himself. Sir Patrick (perfectly undisturbed by Lady Lundie’s parting speech) sat down in the summer-house, without noticing his young friend, and asked himself a question founded on profound observation of the female sex. “Were there ever two women yet with a quarrel between them,” thought the old gentleman, “who didn’t want to drag a man into it? Let them drag _me_ in, if they can!” Arnold advanced a step, and modestly announced himself. “I hope I am not in the way, Sir Patrick?” “In the way? of course not! Bless my soul, how serious the boy looks! Are _you_ going to appeal to me as the head of the family next?” It was exactly what Arnold was about to do. But it was plain that if he admitted it just then Sir Patrick (for some unintelligible reason) would decline to listen to him. He answered cautiously, “I asked leave to consult you in private, Sir; and you kindly said you would give me the opportunity before I left Windygates?”