“Oh, but, dear aunt, I must get somebody to see him. I’ve been thinking about it ever since he was here with my uncle. I wouldn’t let him think that I broke it all off, merely because—because of poor Harry’s money,” and Fanny sobbed away dreadfully. “But you don’t want to marry him!” said the naïve countess. Now, Fanny did want to marry him, though she hardly liked saying so, even to Lady Cashel. “You know, I promised him I would,” said she; “and what will he think of me?—what must he think of me, to throw him off so cruelly, so harshly, after all that’s past?—Oh, aunt! I must see him again.” “I know something of human nature,” replied the aunt, “and if you do, I tell you, it will end in your being engaged to him again. You know it’s off now. Come, my dear; don’t think so much about it: I’m sure Lord Cashel wouldn’t do anything cruel or harsh.” “Oh, I must see him again, whatever comes of it;” and then she paused for a considerable time, during which the bewildered old lady was thinking what she could do to relieve her sensitive niece. “Dear, dear aunt, I don’t want to deceive you!” and Fanny, springing up, knelt at her aunt’s feet, and looked up into her face. “I do love him—I always loved him, and I cannot, cannot quarrel with him.” And then she burst out crying vehemently, hiding her face in the countess’s lap. Lady Cashel was quite overwhelmed. Fanny was usually so much more collected than herself, that her present prostration, both of feeling and body, was dreadful to see. Suppose she was to go into hysterics—there they would be alone, and Lady Cashel felt that she had not strength to ring the bell. “But, my dear Fanny! oh dear, oh dear, this is very dreadful!—but, Fanny—he’s gone away now. Lift up your face, Fanny, for you frighten me. Well, I’m sure I’ll do anything for you. Perhaps he wouldn’t mind coming back again,—he always was very good-natured. I’m sure I always liked Lord Ballindine very much,—only he would have all those horses. But I’m sure, if you wish it, I should be very glad to see him marry you; only, you know, you must wait some time, because of poor Harry; and I’m sure I don’t know how you’ll manage with Lord Cashel.” “Dear aunt—I want you to speak to Lord Cashel. When I was angry because I thought Frank didn’t come here as he might have done, I consented that my uncle should break off the match: besides, then, you know, we should have had so little between us. But I didn’t know then how well I loved him. Indeed, indeed, aunt, I cannot bring my heart to quarrel with him; and I am quite, _quite_ sure he would never wish to quarrel with me. Will you go to my uncle—tell him that I’ve changed my mind; tell him that I was a foolish girl, and did not know my mind. But tell him I _must_ be friends with Frank again.”