Clarissa ran over the names of the Castle guests. There was one which she felt would be difficult to pronounce, but it must needs come at last. She wound up her list with it: "And--and there are Lady Geraldine Challoner, and the gentleman she is going to marry--Mr. Fairfax." To her extreme surprise, the name seemed to awaken some unwonted emotion in her father's breast. "Fairfax!" he exclaimed; "what Fairfax is that? You didn't tell me whom Lady Geraldine was to marry when you told me you were to officiate as bridesmaid. Who is this Mr. Fairfax?" "He has been in the army, papa, and has sold out. He is the heir to some great estate called Lyvedon, which he is to inherit from an uncle." "His son!" muttered Mr. Lovel. "Do you know Mr. Fairfax, papa?" "No, I do not know this young man. But I have known others--members of the same family--and have a good reason for hating his name. He comes of a false, unprincipled race. I am sorry for Lady Geraldine." "He may not have inherited the faults of his family, papa." "May not!" echoed Mr. Lovel contemptuously; "or may. I fancy these vices run in the blood, child, and pass from father to son more surely than a landed estate. To lie and betray came natural to the man I knew. Great Heaven! I can see his false smile at this moment." This was said in a low voice; not to Clarissa, but to himself; a half-involuntary exclamation. He turned impatiently presently, and walked hurriedly back towards the Castle. "Let us go in," he said. "That name of Fairfax has set my teeth on edge." "But you will not be uncivil to Mr. Fairfax, papa?" Clarissa asked anxiously. "Uncivil to him! No, of course not. The man is Lady Laura's guest, and a stranger to me; why should I be uncivil to him?"