‘Cecilia shall do as she likes. I will not influence her in any way,’ she said at last. ‘But you are willing, Lady Eliza?’ ‘----Yes.’ There was not the enthusiasm he expected in her voice, and this ruffled him; a certain amount was due to him, he felt. ‘You are aware that I can offer Miss Raeburn a very suitable establishment,’ he said. ‘I should not have taken this step otherwise.’ ‘Have you private means, sir?’ asked Lady Eliza, drumming her fingers upon the table, and looking over his head. ‘No; but that is of little importance, for I wrote to my father a short time ago, and yesterday, after leaving you, I received his reply. He has consented, and he assures me of his intention to be liberal--especially liberal, I may say.’ She was growing a little weary of his long words and his unvaried air of being official. She was disposed to like him personally, mainly from the fact that he was the nephew of his uncle, but the prospect of losing Cecilia hung heavily over any satisfaction she felt at seeing her settled. Many and many a time had she lain awake, distressed and wondering, how to solve the problem of the girl’s future, were she herself to die leaving her unmarried; it had been her waking nightmare. Now there might be an end to all that. She knew that she ought to be glad and grateful to fate--perhaps even grateful to Crauford Fordyce. Tears were near her eyes, and her hot heart ached in advance to think of the days to come. The little share of companionship and affection, the wreckage she had gathered laboriously on the sands of life, would soon slip from her. Her companion could not understand the pain in her look; he was smoothing out a letter on the table before her. She gathered herself together, sharp words coming to her tongue, as they generally did when she was moved. ‘I suppose my niece and I ought to be greatly flattered,’ she said; ‘I had forgotten that part of it.’ ‘Pray do not imagine such a thing. If you will read this letter you will understand the view my father takes. The second sheet contains private matters; this is the first one.’ ‘Sit down, Mr. Fordyce; the writing is so close that I must carry it to the light.’ She took the letter to one of the windows at the end of the room, and stood by the curtain, her back turned. A smothered exclamation came to him from the embrasure, and he was wondering what part of the epistle could have caused it when she faced him suddenly, looking at him with shining eyes, and with a flush of red blood mounting to her forehead.