“She's a kind creature,” muttered Paul; “how fond I'm growing of her!” “It is no time for the indulgence of scruples; otherwise, Helen, I 'd not place much reliance on the gentleman's taste.” “Proud as Lucifer,” thought Paul. “His good-nature, mamma, is the quality we stand most in need of, and I have a strong trust that he is not deficient there.” “What a situation to be placed in!” sighed Lady Eleanor: “that we should turn with a shudder from seeking protection where it is our due, and yet ask counsel and assistance from a man like this!” “I feel no repugnance whatever to accepting such a favor from Mr. Dempsey, while I should deem it a great humiliation to be suitor to the Earl of Netherby.” “And yet he is our nearest relative living,--with vast wealth and influence, and I believe not indisposed towards us. I go too fast, perhaps,” said she, scornfully; “his obligations to my own father were too great and too manifold, that I should say so.” “What a Tartar!” murmured Paul. “If the proud Earl could forget the services my dear father rendered him, when, a younger son, without fortune or position, he had no other refuge than our house,--if he could wipe away the memory of benefits once received,--he might perhaps be better minded towards us; but obligation is so suggestive of ill-will.” “Dearest mamma,” said Helen, laughing, “if your hopes depend upon his Lordship's forgetfulness of kindness, I do think we may afford to be sanguine. I am well inclined to think that he is not weighed down by the load of gratitude that makes men enemies. Still,” added she, more seriously, “I am very averse to seeking his aid, or even his counsel; I vote for Mr. Dempsey.” “How are we to endure the prying impertinence of his curiosity? Have you thought of that, Helen?” Paul's cheek grew scarlet, and his very fingers' ends tingled. “Easily enough, mamma. Nay, if our troubles were not so urgent, it would be rather amusing than otherwise; and with all his vulgarity--” “The little vixen!” exclaimed Paul, so much off his guard that both mother and daughter started. “Did you hear that, Helen? I surely heard some one speak.” “I almost thought so,” replied Miss Darcy, taking up a candle from the table, and proceeding towards the door. Mr. Dempsey had but time to retreat behind the curtain of the bed, when she reached the spot where he had been standing. “No, all is quiet in the house,” said she, opening the door into the corridor and listening. “Even our respectable guests would seem to be asleep.” She waited for a few seconds, and then returned to her place on the sofa. Mr. Dempsey had either heard enough to satisfy the immediate cravings of his curiosity, or, more probably, felt his present position too critical; for when he drew the curtain once more close over the glass door, he slipped noiselessly into the corridor, and entering the first room he could find, opened the window and sprang out.