“So far, this is mere guess-work; but it is unluckily certain that he and Mrs. Tyrrel had some talk together alone when luncheon was over.  Your name was not mentioned; but when their conversation fell on Norah, you were in both their minds, of course.  The admiral (doing her full justice personally) declared himself smitten with pity for her hard lot in life.  The scandalous conduct of her sister must always stand (he feared) in the way of her future advantage.  Who could marry her, without first making it a condition that she and her sister were to be absolute strangers to each other?  And even then, the objection would remain—­the serious objection to the husband’s family—­of being connected by marriage with such a woman as Mrs. Noel Vanstone.  It was very sad; it was not the poor girl’s fault, but it was none the less true that her sister was her rock ahead in life.  So he ran on, with no real ill-feeling toward Norah, but with an obstinate belief in his own prejudices which bore the aspect of ill-feeling, and which people with more temper than judgment would be but too readily disposed to resent accordingly.

“Unfortunately, Mrs. Tyrrel is one of those people.  She is an excellent, warm-hearted woman, with a quick temper and very little judgment; strongly attached to Norah, and heartily interested in Norah’s welfare.  From all I can learn, she first resented the expression of the admiral’s opinion, in his presence, as worldly and selfish in the last degree; and then interpreted it, behind his back, as a hint to discourage his nephew’s visits, which was a downright insult offered to a lady in her own house.  This was foolish enough so far; but worse folly was to come.

“As soon as your uncle was gone, Mrs. Tyrrel, most unwisely and improperly, sent for Norah, and, repeating the conversation that had taken place, warned her of the reception she might expect from the man who stood toward you in the position of a father, if she accepted an offer of marriage on your part.  When I tell you that Norah’s faithful attachment to her sister still remains unshaken, and that there lies hidden under her noble submission to the unhappy circumstances of her life a proud susceptibility to slights of all kinds, which is deeply seated in her nature—­you will understand the true motive of the refusal which has so naturally and so justly disappointed you.  They are all three equally to blame in this matter.  Your uncle was wrong to state his objections so roundly and inconsiderately as he did.  Mrs. Tyrrel was wrong to let her temper get the better of her, and to suppose herself insulted where no insult was intended.  And Norah was wrong to place a scruple of pride, and a hopeless belief in her sister which no strangers can be expected to share, above the higher claims of an attachment which might have secured the happiness and the prosperity of her future life.

“But the mischief has been done.  The next question is, can the harm be remedied?