"Oh!" she concluded, taking Georgy up by force, who resisted with all his might. "I thought you might have been writing to invite him here, and he would be such a trouble." "He wouldn't come, if I did." "Is he so very unsightly, George?" "No: not unsightly at all." "And the other one--Frederick? Is he so very beautiful?" George St. John burst into another laugh. "Beautiful! What a term to apply to a man! But I suppose he is what you women would call so. He _is_ good-looking: better-looking, I think, than any one I ever saw. There, that's enough, Charlotte. Put off anything else you have to ask me until by-and-by." This _fête_, as projected by Alnwick's mistress, was carried out. It need not have been mentioned at all, but for a misfortune that befel Benja while it was being held. The weather, though growing gradually colder, still retained its fineness; and when the day rose, the 10th of November, it proved to be bright and pleasant. Crowds flocked to Alnwick. As it had been on the 10th of November, during Mr. St. John's widowhood, the _fête_ or _fêtes_, so it was now--a gathering to be remembered in the county. The invitations had gone out far and wide; visitors were staying in the house, as many as it would hold; day-guests came from all parts, near and distant. It was one of those marked days that never fade from the memory. But the guests, as it drew towards the close of the afternoon, might have searched for their host in vain, had they happened to want him. Mr. St. John was then in his own sitting-room (the one where you last saw him), leaning back in an easy-chair, and looking tired to death. A little thing fatigued him now: for there could be no mistake that the weakness he complained of was growing upon him. He lay back in the chair in that perfectly still attitude indicative of great weariness; listlessly conscious of the noise outside, the music, the laughter, the gay and joyous sounds; and amidst them might be caught distinctly the shouts and cries of the two boys, Benja and George, who were busiest of the busy that festal day. Presently George St. John stretched out his hand, and took a letter from his desk--the answer from Isaac St. John. It had arrived only that morning, and Mr. St. John, engaged with his guests at breakfast, had only glanced at its contents. He opened it now again. "_Castle Wafer, November 9th_. "My Dear George, "You will think I have taken a great deal of time in replying to you, but I wished to give the question mature consideration, and could only snatch brief moments between my sufferings, which are just now very great.