“Not unless I were very clear that he liked my choice,” said Alick, gravely.

“Oh, dear!  Have you any doubts, or is that meant for a cut at poor innocent me, as if I could help people’s folly, or as if he was not gone to Rio Janeiro,” exclaimed Bessie, with a sort of meek simplicity and unconsciousness that totally removed all the unsatisfactoriness of the speech, and made even her brother smile while he looked annoyed; and Lady Temple quietly changed the conversation.  Alick Keith was obliged to go away early, and the three ladies sat long in the garden outside the window, in the summer twilight, much relishing the frank-hearted way in which this engaging girl talked of herself and her difficulties to Fanny as to an old friend, and to Rachel as belonging to Fanny.

“I am afraid that I was very naughty,” she said, with a hand laid on Lady Temple’s, as if to win pardon; “but I never can resist plaguing that dear anxious brother of mine, and he did so dreadfully take to heart the absurdities of that little Charlie Carleton, as if any one with brains could think him good for anything but a croquet partner, that I could not help giving a little gentle titillation.  I saw you did not like it, dear Lady Temple, and I am sorry for it.”

“I hope I did not vex you,” said Fanny, afraid of having been severe.

“Oh, no, indeed; a little check just makes one feel one is cared for,” and they kissed affectionately:  “you see when one has a very wise brother, plaguing him is irresistible.  How little Stephana will plague hers, in self-defence, with so many to keep her in order.”

“They all spoil her.”

“Ah, this is the golden age.  See what it will be when they think themselves responsible for her!  Dear Lady Temple, how could you send him home so old and so grave?”

“I am afraid we sent him home very ill.  I never expected to see him so perfectly recovered.  I could hardly believe my eyes when Colonel Keith brought him to the carriage not in the least lame.”

“Yes; and it was half against his will.  He would have been almost glad to be a lay curate to Uncle George, only he knew if he was fit for service my father would have been vexed at his giving up his profession.”

“Then it was not his choice!” said Rachel.

“Oh, he was born a soldier, like all the rest of us, couldn’t help it.  The —­th is our home, and if he would only take my hint and marry, I could be with him there, now!  Lady Temple, do pray send for all the eligible officers—­I don’t know any of them now, except the two majors, and Alick suspects my designs, I believe, for he won’t tell me anything about them.”

“My dear!” said Fanny, bewildered, “how you talk; you know we are living a very quiet life here.”

“Oh, yes, so Alick has told me,” she said, with a pretty compunction in her tone; “you must be patient with me,” and she kissed Fanny’s fingers again and spoke in a gentler way.  “I am used to be a great chatter-box, and nobody protested but Alick.”