Mrs Dale stood silent, again reading the note, and Lily came down from the ladder.  When she reached the floor she went directly up to her uncle, and taking his hand turned him round with herself towards one of the windows, so that they stood with their backs to the room.  “Uncle,” she said, “do not be angry with me.  I can’t go;” and then she put up her face to kiss him.

He stooped and kissed her and still held her hand.  He looked into her face and read it all.  He knew well, now, why she could not go; or, rather, why she herself thought that she could not go.  “Cannot you, my darling?” he said.

“No, uncle.  It is very kind,—­very kind; but I cannot go.  I am not fit to go anywhere.”

“But you should get over that feeling.  You should make a struggle.”

“I am struggling, and I shall succeed; but I cannot do it all at once.  At any rate I could not go there.  You must give my love to Lady Julia, and not let her think me cross.  Perhaps Bell will go.”

What would be the good of Bell’s going,—­or the good of his putting himself out of the way, by a visit which would of itself be so tiresome to him, if the one object of the visit could not be carried out?  The earl and his sister had planned the invitation with the express intention of bringing Lily and Eames together.  It seemed that Lily was firm in her determination to resist this intention; and, if so, it would be better that the whole thing should fall to the ground.  He was very vexed, and yet he was not angry with her.  Everybody lately had opposed him in everything.  All his intended family arrangements had gone wrong.  But yet he was seldom angry respecting them.  He was so accustomed to be thwarted that he hardly expected success.  In this matter of providing Lily with a second lover, he had not come forward of his own accord.  He had been appealed to by his neighbour the earl, and had certainly answered the appeal with much generosity.  He had been induced to make the attempt with eagerness, and a true desire for its accomplishment; but in this, as in all his own schemes, he was met at once by opposition and failure.

“I will leave you to talk it over among yourselves,” he said.  “But, Mary, you had better see me before you send your answer.  If you will come up by-and-by, Ralph shall take the two notes over together in the afternoon.”  So saying, he left the Small House, and went back to his own solitary home.

“Lily, dear,” said Mrs Dale, as soon as the front door had been closed, “this is meant for kindness to you,—­for most affectionate kindness.”

“I know it, mamma; and you must go to Lady Julia, and must tell her that I know it.  You must give her my love.  And, indeed, I do love her now.  But—­”

“You won’t go, Lily?” said Mrs Dale, beseechingly.

“No, mamma; certainly I will not go.”  Then she escaped out of the room by herself, and for the next hour neither of them dared to go to her.