‘I like both of them,’ was my temperate reply:  ’you must not be hard on poor little Lady Betty.  Miss Darrell had been lecturing her, and that made her cross.’

‘So I supposed,’ was the prompt answer.  ’Well, what did you think of the Dare-all,—­as the vicar calls her sometimes? is she not like a pleasant edition of Tupper’s Proverbial Philosophy,—­verbose and full of long sentences?  How many words did she coin to-night, do you think?’

There was a little scorn in the young man’s voice.  Miss Darrell was evidently not a favourite in the vicarage, yet most people would have called her elegant and well-mannered, and, if she had no beauty, she was not bad-looking.  She was so exceedingly well made up, and her style of dress was so suitable to her face, that I was not surprised to hear afterwards from Lady Betty that many people thought her cousin Etta handsome.  Now when Mr. Tudor made this spiteful little speech I felt rather pleased, for my dislike to Miss Darrell had increased rather than diminished by the evening’s experiences; under her smooth speeches there lurked an antagonistic spirit; something had prejudiced her against me even at our first meeting; I was convinced that she did not like me, and would not encourage my visit to Gladwyn.  Mr. Tudor and I talked a good deal about Lady Betty; he described her as most whimsical and sound-hearted, half-child and half-woman, with a touch of the brownie; her brother often called her Brownie, or little Nix, to tease her.  She was very fond of her sister, he went on to say, but there was not much companionship between them.  Miss Hamilton was very intellectual, and read a good deal, and Lady Betty never read anything but novels; they all made a pet of her,—­even Mr. Hamilton, who was not much given to pets,—­but she was hardly an influence in the house.

‘She has not backbone enough,’ he finished, ’and the Dare-all rules them all with a rod of iron—­“cased in velvet."’

Uncle Max listened to all this in silence, and as they parted with me at the gate of the White Cottage he only said ‘Good-night, Ursula,’ in a depressed voice.  He was evidently rather cast down about something; perhaps Miss Hamilton’s decision had disappointed him; she had been his favourite worker, and had helped him greatly; he seemed to feel it hard that she should withdraw her services so suddenly.  How wistfully she had looked at him as he pleaded with her! it was the first time I had seen her look at him of her own accord, and yet she had denied his request,—­very firmly and gently.

’I must be friends with her, and then perhaps she will tell me all about it some day,’ I thought; for I was convinced that there was more than met the eye; but it was some time before I could banish these perplexing thoughts.

I saw a good deal of Lady Betty during the next week or two.  I met her frequently on my way to the Lockes’, and she would walk with me to the gate, and two or three times she made her appearance at the Marshall’s’; ‘for it’s no use calling at the White Cottage of an afternoon,’ she would say disconsolately, ’for you are never at home, you inhospitable creature.’