“So,” he said, “those are to be the terms of my admission.”

“The only possible ones.”

“I will consider them.  I have not accepted them.”

“You will,” she said.

But she met a smile in return, implying that there might be a will as steadfast as her own, although the question might be waived for a time.

Meantime, Rachel was as nearly hating Colonel Keith as principle would allow, with “Human Reeds,” newly finished, burning in her pocket, “Military Society” fermenting in her brain, and “Curatocult” still unacknowledged.  Had he not had quite time for any rational visit?  Was he to devour Mackarel Lane as well as Myrtlewood?  She was on her way to the latter house, meeting Grace as she went, and congratulating herself that he could not be in two places at once, whilst Grace secretly wondered how far she might venture to build on Alison Williams’s half confidence, and regretted the anxiety wasted by Rachel and the mother; though, to be sure, that of Mrs. Curtis was less uncalled for than her daughter’s, since it was only the fear of Fanny’s not being sufficiently guarded against misconstructions.

Rachel held up her hands in despair in the hall.  “Six officers’ cards!” she exclaimed.

“No, only six cards,” said Grace; “there are two of each.”

“That’s enough,” sighed Rachel; “and look there,” gazing through the garden-door.  “She is walking with the young puppy that dined here on Thursday, and they called Alick.”

“Do you remember,” said Grace, “how she used to chatter about Alick, when she first came to us, at six years old.  He was the child of one of the officers.  Can this be the same?”

“That’s one of your ideas, Grace.  Look, this youth could have been hardly born when Fanny came to us.  No; he is only one of the idlers that military life has accustomed her to.”

Rather against Grace’s feeling, Rachel drew her on, so as to come up with Lady Temple and her friend in the midst of their conversation, and they heard the last words—­

“Then you will give me dear Bessie’s direction?”

“Thank you, it will be the greatest kindness—­”

“Oh, Grace, Rachel, is it you?” exclaimed Fanny.  “You have not met before, I think.  Mr. Keith—­Miss Curtis.”

Very young indeed were both face and figure, fair and pale, and though there was a moustache, it was so light and silky as to be scarcely visible; the hair, too, was almost flaxen, and the whole complexion had a washed-out appearance.  The eyes, indeed, were of the same peculiar deep blue as the Colonel’s, but even these were little seen under their heavy sleepy lids, and the long limbs had in every movement something of weight and slowness, the very sight of which fretted Rachel, and made her long to shake him.  It appeared that he was come to spend the Sunday at Avonmouth, and Grace tried to extract the comfort for her mother that two gentlemen were better than one, and Fanny need not be on their minds for chaperonage for that day.