“There’s no one I respect more than Lancelot Underwood. As to Victoria, she is thankful that it is no worse.” “Ah! I know what you mean, but you can’t wonder that my husband should feel it hard that there should have been some kind of flirtation. He is fond of Maura, you know, and he does feel that there must have been some slyness in some one to cause this affair to have been so suddenly sprung on us.” “Slyness--aye, I believe there was. Tell me, Ada, had you any notion that that lad, Gerald Underwood, was engaged to Dolores Mohun?” “No; who told you?” “Mysie let it out. She had been warned not to mention it till his position was ascertained, Maurice’s consent and all.” “I must say Mysie should have spoken. It was not fair towards me to keep it back.” “Still less fair of Maura, if that’s her name, to hint at attachment between Franceska and the boy. That was the embargo upon my poor fellow. He rushed off to have it out the moment he saw how matters stood.” “Well, it was a great shame; but girls are girls, especially with those antecedents, and Maura did not know to the contrary. You will believe me, Rotherwood, I never had any desire that she should succeed. I would have sent her away if I could; but you can’t wonder that Mr. White is vexed, and feels as if there had been underhand dealing.” “I see he is. But you will not let him make it unpleasant for the Underwoods.” “Oh no, no! They have not much longer to stay. They are in correspondence about a rheumatic clergyman.” Mrs. White, however, determined not to expose Maura to her husband, though she reproached her, and was rather shocked by the young lady’s self-defence. It was a natural idea, and no one had ever told her to the contrary. It was all spite in Mysie Merrifield to proclaim it after having kept it back so long. She really was in such a state of mind that Mrs. White was rather relieved that the Rotherwoods had taken Franceska to San Remo to stay till Ivinghoe had to depart. Anna was left to send off the little felicitous note that she had written to her mother. Each and all were writing letters that would be received with rapture almost incredulous, for no one but Sophia could have had any preparation. “It is pleasant to think of poor Alda’s delight,” said Geraldine, over her writing-case. “After all her troubles, to have her utmost ambition fulfilled at last; and yet--and yet it does seem turning that pretty creature over to a life of temptation.” “In good hands,” said Clement. “The youth himself is a nice honest fellow, a mere boy as yet; but it is something to have no harm in him at two-and-twenty and in the Guards; and his parents are evidently ready to watch over and guide them.” “If her head does not get turned,” sighed Geraldine. “Just as likely in any other station,” replied Clement. “The protection must come from within, not from the externals; and I do think that she--yes, and he too--have that Guard within them.”