“The impertinence of Lady Lundie’s message is no more than I should have expected from her,” she said.  “I am only surprised at Sir Patrick’s delivering it.”

“Sir Patrick’s motives will appear presently,” rejoined the incorrigible old gentleman.  “Second message:  ’Blanche’s fondest love.  Is dying to be acquainted with Anne’s husband, and to be informed of Anne’s married name.  Feels indescribable anxiety and apprehension on Anne’s account.  Insists on hearing from Anne immediately.  Longs, as she never longed for any thing yet, to order her pony-chaise and drive full gallop to the inn.  Yields, under irresistible pressure, to t he exertion of her guardian’s authority, and commits the expression of her feelings to Sir Patrick, who is a born tyrant, and doesn’t in the least mind breaking other people’s hearts.’  Sir Patrick, speaking for himself, places his sister-in-law’s view and his niece’s view, side by side, before the lady whom he has now the honor of addressing, and on whose confidence he is especially careful not to intrude.  Reminds the lady that his influence at Windygates, however strenuously he may exert it, is not likely to last forever.  Requests her to consider whether his sister-in-law’s view and his niece’s view in collision, may not lead to very undesirable domestic results; and leaves her to take the course which seems best to herself under those circumstances.—­Second message delivered textually.  Time, three minutes.  A storm coming on.  A quarter of an hour’s ride from here to the shooting-cottage.  Madam, I wish you good-evening.”

He bowed lower than ever—­and, without a word more, quietly left the room.

Anne’s first impulse was (excusably enough, poor soul) an impulse of resentment.

“Thank you, Sir Patrick!” she said, with a bitter look at the closing door.  “The sympathy of society with a friendless woman could hardly have been expressed in a more amusing way!”

The little irritation of the moment passed off with the moment.  Anne’s own intelligence and good sense showed her the position in its truer light.

She recognized in Sir Patrick’s abrupt departure Sir Patrick’s considerate resolution to spare her from entering into any details on the subject of her position at the inn.  He had given her a friendly warning; and he had delicately left her to decide for herself as to the assistance which she might render him in maintaining tranquillity at Windygates.  She went at once to a side-table in the room, on which writing materials were placed, and sat down to write to Blanche.

“I can do nothing with Lady Lundie,” she thought.  “But I have more influence than any body else over Blanche and I can prevent the collision between them which Sir Patrick dreads.”