“I tell you frankly, madam, I neither can nor will be guilty of the incivility you propose to the Master of Ravenswood; he has not deserved it at my hand. If you will be so unreasonable as to insult a man of quality under your own roof, I cannot prevent you; but I will not at least be the agent in such a preposterous proceeding.” “You will not?” asked the lady. “No, by heavens, madam!” her husband replied; “ask me anything congruent with common decency, as to drop his acquaintance by degrees, or the like; but to bid him leave my house is what I will not and cannot consent to.” “Then the task of supporting the honour of the family will fall on me, as it has often done before,” said the lady. She sat down, and hastily wrote a few lines. The Lord Keeper made another effort to prevent her taking a step so decisive, just as she opened the door to call her female attendant from the ante-room. “Think what you are doing, Lady Ashton: you are making a mortal enemy of a young man who is like to have the means of harming us——” “Did you ever know a Douglas who feared an enemy?” answered the lady, contemptuously. “Ay, but he is as proud and vindictive as an hundred Douglasses, and an hundred devils to boot. Think of it for a night only.” “Not for another moment,” answered the lady. “Here, Mrs. Patullo, give this billet to young Ravenswood.” “To the Master, madam?” said Mrs. Patullo. “Ay, to the Master, if you call him so.” “I wash my hands of it entirely,” said the Keeper; “and I shall go down into the garden, and see that Jardine gathers the winter fruit for the dessert.” “Do so,” said the lady, looking after him with glances of infinite contempt; “and thank God that you leave one behind you as fit to protect the honour of the family as you are to look after pippins and pears.” The Lord Keeper remained long enough in the garden to give her ladyship’s mind time to explode, and to let, as he thought, at least the first violence of Ravenswood’s displeasure blow over. When he entered the hall, he found the Marquis of A—— giving orders to some of his attendants. He seemed in high displeasure, and interrupted an apology which Sir William had commenced for having left his lordship alone. “I presume, Sir William, you are no stranger to this singular billet with which _my_ kinsman of Ravenswood (an emphasis on the word ‘my’) has been favoured by your lady; and, of course, that you are prepared to receive my adieus. My kinsman is already gone, having thought it unnecessary to offer any on his part, since all former civilities had been cancelled by this singular insult.” “I protest, my lord,” said Sir William, holding the billet in his hand, “I am not privy to the contents of this letter. I know Lady Ashton is a warm-tempered and prejudiced woman, and I am sincerely sorry for any offence that has been given or taken; but I hope your lordship will consider that a lady——”