"No, indeed I am not," said Thomas Godolphin. "Mr. Hastings made a request to me, madam, that I should take charge of his daughter when I returned," continued he to Lady Godolphin. "He wants her at home, he says." "Mr. Hastings is very polite!" ironically replied my lady. "Maria will go back when I choose to spare her." "I hope you will allow her to return with me--unless you shall soon be returning yourself," said Thomas Godolphin. "It is not I that shall be returning to Prior's Ash yet," said my lady. "The sickly old place must give proof of renewed health first. You will not see either me or Sir George there on this side Christmas." "Then I think, Lady Godolphin, you must offer no objection to my taking charge of Maria," said Thomas courteously, but firmly, leaving the discussion of Sir George's return to another opportunity. "I passed my word to Mr. Hastings." Charlotte Pain, all animation now, approached Lady Godolphin. She was thoroughly sick and tired of Broomhead: since George Godolphin's departure, she had been projecting how she could get away from it. Here was a solution to her difficulty. "Dear Lady Godolphin, you must allow me to depart with Mr. Godolphin--whatever you may do with Maria Hastings," she exclaimed. "I said nothing to you--for I really did not see how I was to get back, knowing you would not permit me to travel so far alone--but Mrs. Verrall is very urgent for my return. And now that she is suffering from this burn, as Mr. Godolphin has brought us news, it is the more incumbent upon me to be at home." Which was a nice little fib of Miss Charlotte's. Her sister had never once hinted that she wished her home again; but a fib or two more or less was nothing to Charlotte. "You are tired of Broomhead," said Lady Godolphin. Charlotte's colour never varied, her eye never drooped, as she protested that she should not tire of Broomhead were she its inmate for a twelvemonth; that it was quite a paradise upon earth. Maria kept her head bent while Charlotte said it, half afraid lest unscrupulous Charlotte should call upon her to bear testimony to her truth. Only that very morning she had protested to Maria that the ennui of the place was killing her. "I don't know," said Lady Godolphin shrewdly. "Unless I am wrong, Charlotte, you have been anxious to leave. What was it that Mr. George hinted at--about escorting you young ladies home--and I stopped him ere it was half spoken? Prior's Ash _would_ talk if I sent you home under his convoy." "Mr. Godolphin is not George," rejoined Charlotte. "No, he is not," replied my lady significantly.