On the afternoon of the day on which her father had been buried, she brought to him a letter, asking him to read it, and tell her what she should do. The letter was from Lady Aylmer, and contained an invitation to Aylmer Castle. It had been accompanied, as the reader may possibly remember, by a letter from Captain Aylmer himself. Of this she of course informed her cousin; but she did not find it to be necessary to show the letter of one rival to the other. Lady Aylmer's letter was cold in its expression of welcome, but very dictatorial in pointing out the absolute necessity that Clara should accept the invitation so given. "I think you will not fail to agree with me, dear Miss Amedroz," the letter said, "that under these strange and perplexing circumstances, this is the only roof which can, with any propriety, afford you a shelter." "And why not the poor-house?" she said, aloud to her cousin, when she perceived that his eye had descended so far on the page. He shook his head angrily, but said nothing; and when he had finished the letter he folded it and gave it back still in silence. "And what am I to do?" she said. "You tell me that I am to come to you for advice in everything." "You must decide for yourself here." "And you won't advise me. You won't tell me whether she is right?" "I suppose she is right." "Then I had better go?" "If you mean to marry Captain Aylmer, you had better go." "I am engaged to him." "Then you had better go." "But I will not submit myself to her tyranny." "Let the marriage take place at once, and you will have to submit only to his. I suppose you are prepared for that?" "I do not know. I do not like tyranny." Again he stood silent for awhile, looking at her, and then he answered: "I should not tyrannise over you, Clara." "Oh, Will, Will, do not speak like that. Do not destroy everything." "What am I to say?" "What would you say if your sister, your real sister, asked advice in such a strait? If you had a sister, who came to you, and told you all her difficulty, you would advise her. You would not say words to make things worse for her." "It would be very different." "But you said you would be my brother." "How am I to know what you feel for this man? It seems to me that you half hate him, half fear him, and sometimes despise him." "Hate him!--No, I never hate him." "Go to him, then, and ask him what you had better do. Don't ask me." Then he hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him. But before he had half gone down the stairs he remembered the ceremony at which he had just been present, and how desolate she was in the world, and he returned to her. "I beg your pardon, Clara," he said, "I am passionate; but I must be a beast to show my passion to you on such a day as this. If I were you I should accept Lady Aylmer's invitation,--merely thanking her for it in the ordinary way. I should then go and see how the land lay. That is the advice I should give my sister."