But still the same question recurred,—what was to be done? Venting his wrath on Lord Cashel would not get him out of the difficulty: going was out of the question; writing was of little use. Could he not send somebody else? Some one who could not be refused admittance to Fanny, and who might at any rate learn what her wishes and feelings were? He did not like making love by deputy; but still, in his present dilemma, he could think of nothing better. But whom was he to send? Bingham Blake was a man of character, and would not make a fool of himself; but he was too young; he would not be able to make his way to Fanny. No—a young unmarried man would not do.—Mat Tierney?—he was afraid of no one, and always cool and collected; but then, Mat was in London; besides, he was a sort of friend of Kilcullen’s. General Bourke? No one could refuse an _entrée_ to his venerable grey hairs, and polished manner; besides, his standing in the world was so good, so unexceptionable; but then the chances were he would not go on such an errand; he was too old to be asked to take such a troublesome service; and besides, if asked, it was very probable he would say that he considered Lord Cashel entitled to his ward’s obedience. The rector—the Rev. Joseph Armstrong? He must be the man: there was, at any rate, respectability in his profession; and he had sufficient worldly tact not easily to be thrust aside from his object: the difficulty would be, whether he had a coat sufficiently decent to appear in at Grey Abbey. After mature consideration he made up his mind that the parson should be his ambassador. He would sooner have confided in Bingham Blake, but an unmarried man would not do. No; the parson must be the man. Frank was, unfortunately, but little disposed to act in any case without advice, and in his anxiety to consult some one as to consulting the parson, returned into the house, to make a clear breast of it to his mother. He found her in the breakfast-room with the two girls, and the three were holding council deep. “Oh, here’s Frank,” said Sophy; “we’d better tell him all about it at once—and he’ll tell us which she’d like best.” “We didn’t mean to tell you,” said Guss; “but I and Sophy are going to work two sofas for the drawing-room—in Berlin wool, you know: they’ll be very handsome—everybody has them now, you know; they have a splendid pair at Ballyhaunis which Nora and her cousin worked.” “But we want to know what pattern would suit Fanny’s taste,” said Sophy. “Well; you can’t know that,” said Frank rather pettishly, “so you’d better please yourselves.” “Oh, but you must know what she likes,” continued Guss; “I’m for this,” and she displayed a pattern showing forth two gorgeous macaws—each with plumage of the brightest colours. “The colours are so bright, and the feathers will work in so well.”