Julia de guest.

   Courcy castle, Thursday.

The squire had never been very fond of any of the De Guest family, and had, perhaps, liked Lady Julia the least of them all.  He was wont to call her a meddling old woman,—­remembering her bitterness and pride in those now long bygone days in which the gallant major had run off with Lady Fanny.  When he first received this letter, he did not, on the first reading of it, believe a word of its contents.  “Cross-grained old harridan,” he said out loud to his nephew.  “Look what that aunt of yours has written to me.”  Bernard read the letter twice, and as he did so his face became hard and angry.

“You don’t mean to say you believe it?” said the squire.

“I don’t think it will be safe to disregard it.”

“What! you think it possible that your friend is doing as she says?”

“It is certainly possible.  He was angry when he found that Lily had no fortune.”

“Heavens, Bernard!  And you can speak of it in that way?”

“I don’t say that it is true; but I think we should look to it.  I will go to Courcy Castle and learn the truth.”

The squire at last decided that he would go.  He went to Courcy Castle, and found that Crosbie had started two hours before his arrival.  He asked for Lady Julia, and learned from her that Crosbie had actually left the house as the betrothed husband of Lady Alexandrina.

“The countess, I am sure, will not contradict it, if you will see her,” said Lady Julia.  But this the squire was unwilling to do.  He would not proclaim the wretched condition of his niece more loudly than was necessary, and therefore he started on his pursuit of Crosbie.  What was his success on that evening we have already learned.

Both Lady Alexandrina and her mother heard of Mr Dale’s arrival at the castle, but nothing was said between them on the subject.  Lady Amelia Gazebee heard of it also, and she ventured to discuss the matter with her sister.

“You don’t know exactly how far it went, do you?”

“No; yes;—­not exactly, that is,” said Alexandrina.

“I suppose he did say something about marriage to the girl?”

“Yes, I’m afraid he did.”

“Dear, dear!  It’s very unfortunate.  What sort of people are those Dales?  I suppose he talked to you about them.”

“No, he didn’t; not very much.  I daresay she is an artful, sly thing!  It’s a great pity men should go on in such a way.”

“Yes, it is,” said Lady Amelia.  “And I do suppose that in this case the blame has been more with him than with her.  It’s only right I should tell you that.”

“But what can I do?”

“I don’t say you can do anything; but it’s as well you should know.”

“But I don’t know, and you don’t know; and I can’t see that there is any use talking about it now.  I knew him a long while before she did, and if she has allowed him to make a fool of her, it isn’t my fault.”