It was Crauford’s distressed appeals rather than her brother’s counsels which had moved Lady Fordyce. She was really fond of her son, and, in company with almost every mother who has children of both sexes, reserved her daughters as receptacles for the overflowings of her temper; they were the hills that attract the thunderstorms from the plain. Crauford was the plain, and Sir Thomas represented sometimes one of these natural objects and sometimes the other. Of late the whole household had been one long chain of mountains. She was unaware of what had happened to her former letter; uncle and nephew had agreed that it was unnecessary to inform her of it, and Robert had merely explained that Crauford would not be suffered by Lady Eliza to approach his divinity without the recommendation of her special approval. It was a happy way of putting it. ‘MY DEAR CRAUFORD, ‘I trust that I, _of all people_, understand that it is not _wealth and riches_ which _make true happiness_, and I shall be glad if you will assure Lady Eliza Lamont that you have _my consent in addressing_ the young lady who is _under her protection._ I shall hope to become acquainted with her before she _enters our family_, and also with her ladyship. ‘I remain, my dear Crauford, ‘Your affectionate mother, ‘LOUISA CHARLOTTE FORDYCE. ‘P.S.--When do you _intend to return home?_’ She ran her eyes over the paper and returned it to Fullarton. ‘From my sister that is a great deal,’ he observed; ‘more than you can imagine. She has always been a difficulty. As children we suffered from her, for she was the eldest, and my life was made hard by her when I was a little boy. Thomas Fordyce has had some experiences, I fancy.’ ‘And this is what you propose for Cecilia?’ exclaimed Lady Eliza. ‘My dear friend, they would not live together; Crauford will take care of that.’ ‘And Cecilia too. She will never marry him, Fullarton. She has told me so already. I should like to see Lady Fordyce’s face when she hears that he has been refused!’ she burst out. Fullarton stared. ‘I think your ladyship might have spared me all this trouble,’ he said, frowning; ‘you are making me look like a fool!’ ‘But I only asked her to-day,’ replied she, her warmth fading, ‘not an hour ago--not five minutes. I had meant to say nothing, and let him be refused, but you can tell him, Fullarton--tell him it is no use.’ A peculiar smile was on his face. ‘My dear Eliza,’ he said, ‘Crauford is probably on his way here now. I undertook to bring you the letter and he is to follow it. I left him choosing a waistcoat to propose in.’ ‘I am sorry,’ said Lady Eliza, too much cast down by his frown to be amused at this picture. ‘Well, what of it?’ he said, rather sourly. ‘He must learn his hard lessons like the rest of the world; there are enough of them and to spare for everyone.’ ‘You are right,’ she replied, ‘terribly right.’ He looked at her critically.