“It springs, we now perceive, from an entire misapprehension of Dr. Middleton.”

“Vernon was in his mind.  It was clear to us.”

“Impossible that it could have been Willoughby!”

“You see the impossibility, the error!”

“And the Middletons here!” said Lady Busshe.  “Oh! if we leave unilluminated we shall be the laughing-stock of the county.  Mr. Dale, please, wake up.  Do you see?  You may have been mistaken.”

“Lady Busshe,” he woke up; “I may have mistaken Dr. Middleton; he has a language that I can compare only to a review-day of the field forces.  But I have the story on authority that I cannot question:  it is confirmed by my daughter’s unexampled behaviour.  And if I live through this day I shall look about me as a ghost to-morrow.”

“Dear Mr. Dale!” said the Patterne ladies, compassionately.  Lady Busshe murmured to them:  “You know the two did not agree; they did not get on:  I saw it; I predicted it.”

“She will understand him in time,” said they.

“Never.  And my belief is, they have parted by consent, and Letty Dale wins the day at last.  Yes, now I do believe it.”

The ladies maintained a decided negative, but they knew too much not to feel perplexed, and they betrayed it, though they said:  “Dear Lady Busshe! is it credible, in decency?”

“Dear Mrs. Mountstuart!” Lady Busshe invoked her great rival appearing among them:  “You come most opportunely; we are in a state of inextricable confusion:  we are bordering on frenzy.  You, and none but you, can help us.  You know, you always know; we hang on you.  Is there any truth in it? a particle?”

Mrs. Mountstuart seated herself regally “Ah, Mr. Dale!” she said, inclining to him.  “Yes, dear Lady Busshe, there is a particle.”

“Now, do not roast us.  You can; you have the art.  I have the whole story.  That is, I have a part.  I mean, I have the outlines, I cannot be deceived, but you can fill them in, I know you can.  I saw it yesterday.  Now, tell us, tell us.  It must be quite true or utterly false.  Which is it?”

“Be precise.”

“His fatality! you called her.  Yes, I was sceptical.  But here we have it all come round again, and if the tale is true, I shall own you infallible.  Has he?—­and she?”

“Both.”

“And the Middletons here?  They have not gone; they keep the field.  And more astounding, she refuses him.  And to add to it, Dr. Middleton intercedes with Mr. Dale for Sir Willoughby.”

“Dr. Middleton intercedes!” This was rather astonishing to Mrs. Mountstuart.

“For Vernon,” Miss Eleanor emphasized.

“For Vernon Whitford, his cousin.” said Miss Isabel, still more emphatically.

“Who,” said Mrs. Mountstuart, with a sovereign lift and turn of her head, “speaks of a refusal?”

“I have it from Mr. Dale,” said Lady Busshe.

“I had it, I thought, distinctly from Dr. Middleton,” said Mr. Dale.