“I am sure I beg your pardon,” said Christian, laughing “I have not the slightest feeling either of resignation or patience.  I am afraid I was thinking over something much more worldly—­that plan about Miss Bennett’s new situation of which I have just been telling you”—­told as briefly as she could, for it was not very safe to trust Miss Gascoigne with any thing.  “Also of the people we met last night at the vice chancellor’s.”

“And that reminds me—­why don’t you go and change your dress?  I hate a morning-gown, as I wish you particularly to look as respectable as you can.  We are sure to have callers to-day.”

“Are we?  Why?”

“To inquire for our health after last night’s entertainment.  It is a customary attention; but, of course, you can not be expected to be acquainted with these sort of things.  Besides, one gentleman especially asked my permission to call today—­a man of position and wealth, whose acquaintance—­”

“Oh, please tell me about him after I come back,” said Christian, hopelessly, “and I will go and dress at once.”

“Take that boy with you.  He never was allowed to be in the drawing-room.  Get up, Arthur,” in the sharp tone in which the most trivial commands were always conveyed to the children, which, no doubt, Miss Gascoigne thought—­as many well-meaning parents and guardians do think—­is the best and safest assertion of authority.  But it had made of Letitia a cringing slave, and of Arthur a confirmed rebel, as he now showed himself to be.

“I won’t go, Aunt Henrietta!  I like this sofa.  I’ll not stir an inch!”

“I command you!  Obey me, sir!”

Arthur pulled an insolent face, at which his aunt rose up and boxed his ears.

This sort of scene had been familiar enough to Christian in the early days of her marriage.  It always made her unhappy, but she attempted no resistance.  Either she felt no right or she had no courage.  Now, things were different.

She caught Miss Gascoigne’s uplifted hand, and Arthur’s, already raised to return the blow.

“Stop! you must not touch that child.  And, Arthur, how can you be so naughty!  Beg your aunt’s pardon, immediately!”

But Arthur began to sob and cough—­that ominous cough which was their dread and pain still.  It did not touch the heart of Aunt Henrietta.

“We shall see who is mistress here.  I will at once send for Dr. Grey.  Maria, ring the bell.”

Poor Aunt Maria, the most subservient of women, was about to do it, when fate interfered in the shape of Barker and a visiting card, which changed the whole current of Miss Gascoigne’s intentions.

“Sir Edwin Uniacke! the very gentleman I was speaking of.  I shall be delighted to see him.  Show him up immediately.”