She was not a girl given to flirting,—­not prone to outward demonstrations of partiality for a young man; but she never withdrew herself from her intended husband, and Fred seemed quite willing to be attentive.  Not a word was said to hurry the young people, and Lady Scroope’s hopes were high.  Of course no allusion had been made to those horrid Irish people, but it did not seem to Lady Scroope that the heir had left his heart behind him in Co.  Clare.

Fred had told his aunt in one of his letters that he would stay three weeks at Scroope, but she had not supposed that he would limit himself exactly to that period.  No absolute limit had been fixed for the visit of Mrs. Neville and her younger son, but it was taken for granted that they would not remain should Fred depart.  As to Sophie Mellerby, her visit was elastic.  She was there for a purpose, and might remain all the winter if the purpose could be so served.  For the first fortnight Lady Scroope thought that the affair was progressing well.  Fred hunted three days a week, and was occasionally away from home,—­going to dine with a regiment at Dorchester, and once making a dash up to London; but his manner to Miss Mellerby was very nice, and there could be no doubt but that Sophie liked him.  When, on a sudden, the heir said a word to his aunt which was almost equal to firing a pistol at her head.  “I think Master Jack is making it all square with Sophie Mellerby.”

If there was anything that Lady Scroope hated almost as much as improper marriages it was slang.  She professed that she did not understand it; and in carrying out her profession always stopped the conversation to have any word explained to her which she thought had been used in an improper sense.  The idea of a young man making it “all square” with a young woman was repulsive, but the idea of this young man making it “all square” with this young woman was so much more repulsive, and the misery to her was so intensely heightened by the unconcern displayed by the heir in so speaking of the girl with whom he ought to have been making it “all square” himself, that she could hardly allow herself to be arrested by that stumbling block.  “Impossible!” she exclaimed,—­“that is if you mean,—­if you mean,—­if you mean anything at all.”

“I do mean a good deal.”

“Then I don’t believe a word of it.  It’s quite out of the question.  It’s impossible.  I’m quite sure your brother understands his position as a gentleman too thoroughly to dream of such a thing.”

This was Greek to Fred Neville.  Why his brother should not fall in love with a pretty girl, and why a pretty girl should not return the feeling, without any disgrace to his brother, Fred could not understand.  His brother was a Neville, and was moreover an uncommonly clever fellow.  “Why shouldn’t he dream of it?”

“In the first place—.  Well!  I did think, Fred, that you yourself seemed to be,—­seemed to be taken with Miss Mellerby.”