‘Very. She has been, and is, more childish than Eleanor ever was, but she is her superior in most points. She has been your pupil, Claude, and she does you credit.’ ‘Thereby hangs a tale which does me no credit,’ muttered Claude, as he remembered how foolishly he had roused her spirit of contradiction, besides the original mischief of naming Eleanor the duenna; ‘but we will not enter into that now. I see this governess is their best chance. Have you heard of one?’ ‘Of several; but the only one who seems likely to suit us is out of reach for the present, and I do not regret it, for I shall not decide till Eleanor comes.’ ‘Emily will not be much pleased,’ said Claude. ‘It has long been her great dread that Aunt Rotherwood should recommend one.’ ‘Ay, Emily’s objections and your aunt’s recommendations are what I would gladly avoid,’ said Mr. Mohun. ‘But Lily!’ said Claude, returning to the subject on which he was most anxious. ‘She is already what Ada calls a monotony, and there will be nothing left of her by the time Eleanor comes, if matters go on in their present fashion.’ ‘I have a plan for her. A little change will set her to rights, and we will take her to London when we go next week to meet Eleanor. She deserves a little extra pleasure; you must take her under your protection, and lionise her well.’ ‘Trust me for that,’ said Claude. ‘It is the best news I have heard for a long time.’ ‘Well, I am glad that one of my remedies meets with your approbation,’ said his father, smiling. ‘For the other, you are much inclined to pronounce the cure as bad as the disease.’ ‘Not for Lily,’ said Claude, laughing. ‘And,’ said Mr. Mohun, ‘I think I can promise you that a remedy will be found for all the other grievances by Michaelmas.’ Claude looked surprised, but as Mr. Mohun explained no further, only observing upon the potatoes, through which they were walking, he only said, ‘Then it is next week that you go to London.’ ‘There is much to do, both for Rotherwood and for Eleanor; I shall go as soon as I can, but I do not think it will be while this fever is so prevalent. I had rather not be from home—I do not like Robert’s looks.’ CHAPTER XIX THE RECTOR’S ILLNESS ‘Thou drooping sick man, bless the guide That checked, or turned thy headstrong youth.’ THE thought of her brother’s kindness, and the effect of his consolation, made Lilias awake that morning in more cheerful spirits; but it was not long before grief and anxiety again took possession of her. The first sound that she heard on opening the schoolroom window was the tolling of the church bell, giving notice of the death of another of those to whom she felt bound by the ties of neighbourhood.