“Lucy—­Miss Gourlay, I mean—­is with her; I am certain of it.  The girl was always very much attached to her, and I know the sly old devil has been sent to negotiate with me, but I declined.  I knew better than to involve myself in a controversy with an old she prig who deals in nothing but maxims, and morals, and points of duty.  I consequently sent her off in double quick time, as they say.  Get me some burgundy and water.  I really am not well.  There is something wrong, Gibson, whatever it is; but I think it’s nothing but anxiety.  Gibson, listen.  I have never been turned from my purpose yet, and I never shall.  Miss Gourlay must be Countess of Cullamore, or it is a struggle for life and death between her and me; either of us shall die, or I shall have my way.  Get me the burgundy and water,” and Gibson, with his sleek bow, went to attend his orders.

Mrs. Mainwaring having some purchases to make and some visits to pay, and feeling that her unexpectedly brief visit to Sir Thomas had allowed her time for both, did not immediately return to call upon Lucy, fearing that she might only disturb the interview between her and Lady Gourlay.

Lucy, as the servant said, was shown up to the drawing-room, where she amused herself as well as she could, by examining some fine paintings, among which was one of her late uncle.  The features of this she studied with considerable attention, and could not help observing that, although they resembled collectively those of her father, the deformity of the one eye only excepted, yet the general result was strikingly different.  All that was harsh, and coarse, and repulsive in the countenance of her father, was here softened down into an expression of gentleness, firmness, and singular candor, whilst, at the same time, the family likeness could not for a moment be questioned or mistaken.

Whilst thus occupied, a foot was heard, as if entering the drawing-room, and naturally turning round, she beheld the stranger before her.  The surprise of each was mutual, for the meeting was perfectly unexpected by either.  A deep blush overspread Lucy’s exquisite features, which almost in a moment gave way to a paleness that added a new and equally delightful phase to her beauty.

“Good heavens, my dear Lucy,” exclaimed the stranger, “do I find you here!  I had heard that the families were estranged; but on that very account I feel the more deeply delighted at your presence under Lady Gourlay’s roof.  This happiness comes to me with a double sense of enjoyment, from the fact of its being unexpected.”

The alternations of red and white still continued as Lucy replied, her sparkling eye chastened down by the veil of modesty as she spoke:  “I am under Lady Gourlay’s roof for the first time in my life.  Indeed, I have come here to make an experiment, if I may use the expression, upon the goodness of her heart.  The amiable lady with whom I now reside suggested to me to do so, a suggestion which I embraced with delight.  I have been here only a few minutes, and await her ladyship’s return, which they tell me may be expected immediately.”