“Never after my aunt’s death, except just after we went to Melbourne, when I heard in general terms of the ruin of the family and the false imputation on their brother.”

“Ah!  I remember that you did say something about going home, and Sir Stephen was distressed, and mamma and I persuaded you because we saw he would have missed you so much, and mamma was quite hurt at your thinking of going.  But if you had only told him your reason, he would never have thought of standing in your way.”

“I know he would not, but I saw he could hardly find any one else just then who knew his ways so well.  Besides, there was little use in going home till I had my promotion, and could offer her a home; and I had no notion how utter the ruin was, or that she had lost so much.  So little did I imagine their straits that, but for Alison’s look, I should hardly have inquired even on hearing her name.”

“How very curious—­how strangely things come round!” said Fanny; then with a start of dismay, “but what shall I do?  Pray, tell me what you would like.  If I might only keep her a little while till I can find some one else, though no one will ever be so nice, but indeed I would not for a moment, if you had rather not.”

“Why so?  Alison is very happy with you, and there can be no reason against her going on.”

“Oh!” cried Lady Temple, with an odd sound of satisfaction, doubt, and surprise, “but I thought you would not like it.”

“I should like, of course, to set them all at ease, but as I can do no more than make a home for Ermine and her niece, I can only rejoice that Alison is with you.”

“But your brother!”

“If he does not like it, he must take the consequence of the utter separation he made my father insist on,” said the Colonel sternly.  “For my own part, I only esteem both sisters the more, if that were possible, for what they have done for themselves.”

“Oh! that is what Rachel would like!  She is so fond of the sick—­I mean of your—­Miss Williams.  I suppose I may not tell her yet.”

“Not yet, if you please.  I have scarcely had time as yet to know what Ermine wishes, but I could not help telling you.”

“Thank you—­I am so glad,” she said, with sweet earnestness, holding out her hand in congratulation.  “When may I go to her?  I should like for her to come and stay here.  Do you think she would?”

“Thank you, I will see.  I know how kind you would be—­indeed, have already been to her.”

“And I am so thankful that I may keep Miss Williams!  The dear boys never were so good.  And perhaps she may stay till baby is grown up.  Oh! how long it will be first!”

“She could not have a kinder friend,” said the Colonel, smiling, and looking at his watch.

“Oh, is it time to dress?  It is very kind of my dear aunt; but I do wish we could have stayed at home to-night.  It is so dull for the boys when I dine out, and I had so much to ask you.  One thing was about that poor little Bessie Keith.  Don’t you think I might ask her down here, to be near her brother?”