“But Lord Lindore!” exclaimed Mary in astonishment.

“Why, that part of the story is what I don’t quite comprehend.  Sometimes I think it is a struggle with Adelaide.  Lindore, poor, handsome, captivating, on one hand; his Grace, rich, stupid, magnificent, on the other.  As for Lindore, he seems to stand quite aloof.  Formerly, you know, he never used to stir from her side, or notice anyone else.  Now he scarcely notices her, at least in presence of the Duke, Sometimes he affects to look unhappy, but I believe it is mere affectation.  I doubt if he ever thought seriously of Adelaide, or indeed anybody else, that he could have in a straightforward Ally Croker sort of a way—­but something too much of this.  While all this has been going on in one corner, there comes regularly everyday Mr. William Downe Wright, looking very much as if he had lost his shoestring, or pocket handkerchief, and had come there to look for it.  I had some suspicion of the nature of the loss, but was hopeful he would have the sense to keep it to himself.  No such thing:  he yesterday stumbled upon Lady Juliana all alone, and, in the weakest of his weak moments, informed her that the loss he had sustained was no less than the loss of that precious jewel his heart; and that the object of his search was no other than that of Miss Mary Douglas to replace it!  He even carried his betise so far as to request her permission, or her influence, or, in short, something that her Ladyship never was asked for by any mortal in their senses before, to aid him in his pursuit.  You know how it delights her to be dressed in a little brief authority; so you may conceive her transports at seeing the sceptre of power thus placed in her hands.  In the heat of her pride she makes the matter known to the whole household.  Redgills, cooks, stable-boys, scullions, all are quite au fait to your marriage with Mr. Downe Wright; so I hope you’ll allow that it was about time you should be made acquainted with it yourself.  But why so pale and frightened-looking?”

Poor Mary was indeed shocked at her cousin’s intelligence.  With the highest feelings of filial reverence, she found herself perpetually called upon either to sacrifice her own principles or to act indirect opposition to her mother’s will, and upon this occasion she saw nothing but endless altercation awaiting her; for her heart revolted from the indelicacy of such measures, and she could not for a moment brook the idea of being bestowed in marriage.  But she had little time for reflection.  They were now at Beech Park; and as she alighted a servant informed her Lady Juliana wished to see her in her dressing-room immediately.  Thither she repaired with a beating heart and agitated step.  She was received with greater kindness than she had ever yet experienced from her mother.