Fordyce was sitting in his room at Fullarton with his correspondence in front of him; he had received two letters and undergone a purgatory of suspense, for, by the time he reached Morphie, his uncle had been kept waiting for him some time. Finding nothing for himself in his private mail-bag, Fullarton had it put under the driving-seat, and the suggestion hazarded by his nephew that it should be brought out only resulted in a curt refusal. The elder man hated to be kept waiting, and the culprit had been forced to get through the homeward drive with what patience he might summon. Lady Fordyce’s letter lay unopened by that of Sir Thomas, and Crauford, in spite of his satisfaction with the one he had just read, eyed it rather apprehensively. But, after all, the main point was gained, or what he looked upon as the main point, for to the rest of the affair there could be but one issue. He broke the seal of his mother’s envelope, and found a second communication inside it from one of his sisters. ‘MY DEAR CRAUFORD (began Lady Fordyce), ‘As your father is writing to you I will add a few words to convey my good wishes to my son upon the _decided step_ he is about to take. Had I been consulted I should have advised a little more reflection, but as you are _bent on pleasing yourself_, and your father (_whether rightly or wrongly_ I cannot pretend to say) is upholding you, I have no choice left but to express my _cordial good wishes_, and to hope that you _may never live to regret it_. Miss Cecilia Raeburn may be all you say, _or she may not_, and I should fail in my duty if I did not remind you that a young lady brought up in a provincial neighbourhood is not likely to step into _such a position as that of the wife of Sir Thomas Fordyce’s eldest son_ without the risk of having her head turned, or, _worse still_, of being incapable of maintaining her dignity. As I have not had the privilege of speaking to your father alone for two days, and as he has _found it convenient_ to sit up till all hours, I do not know whether the consent he has (apparently) given is an unwilling one, but I should be acting _against my conscience_ were I to hide from you that I suspect it most strongly. With _heartfelt wishes_ for your truest welfare, ‘I remain, my dear Crauford, ‘Your affectionate mother, ‘LOUISA CHARLOTTE FORDYCE.’ ‘P.S.--Would it not be _wise_ to delay your plans until you have been once more at home, and had every opportunity of thinking it over? You might return here in a few days, and conclude your visit to your uncle _later on_--say, at the end of September.’