Mrs. Brande talked long and enthusiastically to Honor about her sister. But Honor was not responsive; her eyes were averted, her answers unsatisfactory; indeed, she said but little, and looked positively uncomfortable and distressed. And no doubt she felt a wee bit guilty because she had prevented the child from coming out before. But that was very unlike Honor; Mrs. Brande could not understand it. How she would exult in a niece who was a miracle of loveliness, instead of being merely a pretty, bright, and popular girl. Not that Honor was very bright now; she was losing her looks, and Honor’s love affair had come to such a woeful end. Honor was not the sort of girl to take up with any one else; and, indeed, she could not wonder. Poor Mark! of all her boys, he was the one nearest to her heart. Still she considered that he had carried filial love a great deal too far, when she had thought over his sacrifice in moments of cool reflection. It was a shame that Mark, and Honor, and a magnificent fortune should all be sacrificed to an eccentric old hermit. Mrs. Brande said little; she was not receiving the support and encouragement she expected. She placed Fairy’s photograph in poor Ben’s silver frame in a conspicuous place in the drawing-room, and she mentally sketched out the rough draft of another letter to Hoyle. Before this letter took definite shape, Mrs. Langrishe came to call--a dinner “call”--in full state and her best afternoon toilet. Seating herself on the sofa, she began to tell Mrs. Brande all about her dear invalid, exactly as if she were talking to a most sympathetic listener--instead of to a deadly rival. “He is such a nice man, and so quiet in a house.” “For that matter,” retorted Mrs. Brande, “he is quiet enough out of the house, and everywhere else.” “And he is so contented and easily amused,” continued Mrs. Langrishe. “I left him with Lalla reading aloud to him.” “Do you think that is _quite_ the thing?” inquired Mrs. Brande, with a dubious sniff. “Why should she not do it as well as hospital nurses?” demanded her visitor. Mrs. Brande reflected on the result of her own nursing. Would this nursing have the same effect? “Hospital nurses are generally young, single, and very frequently pretty,” resumed Mrs. Langrishe. “They read to their patients, and take tea with them, and no one says a word. All the difference between them and these girls is, their uniform and their experience; and surely _no_ one ever dreams of making a remark about those excellent, devoted young women!” Lalla was not excellent, but she had certainly been most devoted--as her aunt thankfully acknowledged. “Well, I don’t know that I should allow Honor to do it,” said Mrs. Brande, with a meditative air. “Possibly not. It would, of course, depend upon circumstances. Now”--laying two fingers playfully on Mrs. Brande’s round arm--“I am going to be a little bird, and whisper a little secret in your ear.”