’Then we will be friends again, Mr Gresham, won’t we?  It is so nice to have a friend like you.  There, I think I understand it now; you need not tell me.’

‘It was half by way of making a fool of my aunt,’ said Frank, in an apologetic tone.

‘There is merit in that, at any rate,’ said Miss Dunstable.  ’I understand it all now; you thought to make a fool of me in real earnest.  Well, I can forgive that; at any rate it is not mean.’

It may be, that Miss Dunstable did not feel much acute anger at finding that this young man had addressed her with words of love in the course of an ordinary flirtation, although that flirtation had been unmeaning and silly.  This was not the offence against which her heart and breast had found peculiar cause to arm itself; this was not the injury from which she had hitherto experienced suffering.

At any rate, she and Frank again became friends, and, before the evening was over, they perfectly understood each other.  Twice during this long tete-a-tete Lady de Courcy came into the room to see how things were going on, and twice she went out almost unnoticed.  It was quite clear to her that something uncommon had taken place, was taking place, or would take place; and that should this be for weal or for woe, no good could not come from her interference.  On each occasion, therefore, she smiled sweetly on the pair of turtle-doves, and glided out of the room as quietly as she had glided into it.

But at last it became necessary to remove them; for the world had gone to bed.  Frank, in the meantime, had told to Miss Dunstable all his love for Mary Thorne, and Miss Dunstable had enjoined him to be true to his vows.  To her eyes there was something of heavenly beauty in young, true love—­of beauty that was heavenly because it had been unknown to her.

‘Mind you let me hear, Mr Gresham,’ said she.  ’Mind you do; and, Mr Gresham, never, never forget her for one moment; not for one moment, Mr Gresham.’

Frank was about to swear that he never would—­again, when the countess, for the third time, sailed into the room.

‘Young people,’ said she, ‘do you know what o’clock it is?’

’Dear me, Lady de Courcy, I declare it is past twelve; I really am ashamed of myself.  How glad you will be to get rid of me to-morrow!’

‘No, no, indeed we shan’t; shall we, Frank?’ and so Miss Dunstable passed out.

Then once again the aunt tapped her nephew with her fan.  It was the last time in her life that she did so.  He looked up in her face, and his look was enough to tell her that the acres of Greshamsbury were not to be reclaimed by the ointment of Lebanon.

Nothing further on the subject was said.  On the following morning Miss Dunstable took her departure, not much heeding the rather cold words of farewell which her hostess gave her; and on the following day Frank started for Greshamsbury.