“Why, what, in the name of common sense and common civility, would you have me do, madam?” answered her husband.  “Is it possible for me, with ordinary decency, to turn a young gentleman out of my house, who saved my daughter’s life and my own, but the other morning, as it were?”

“Saved your life!  I have heard of that story,” said the lady.  “The Lord Keeper was scared by a dun cow, and he takes the young fellow who killed her for Guy of Warwick:  any butcher from Haddington may soon have an equal claim on your hospitality.”

“Lady Ashton,” stammered the Keeper, “this is intolerable; and when I am desirous, too, to make you easy by any sacrifice, if you would but tell me what you would be at.”

“Go down to your guests,” said the imperious dame, “and make your apology to Ravenswood, that the arrival of Captain Craigengelt and some other friends renders it impossible for you to offer him lodgings at the castle.  I expect young Mr. Hayston of Bucklaw.”

“Good heavens, madam!” ejaculated her husband.  “Ravenswood to give place to Craigengelt, a common gambler and an informer!  It was all I could do to forbear desiring the fellow to get out of my house, and I was much surprised to see him in your ladyship’s train.”

“Since you saw him there, you might be well assured,” answered this meek helpmate, “that he was proper society.  As to this Ravenswood, he only meets with the treatment which, to my certain knowledge, he gave to a much-valued friend of mine, who had the misfortune to be his guest some time since.  But take your resolution; for, if Ravenswood does not quit the house, I will.”

Sir William Ashton paced up and down the apartment in the most distressing agitation; fear, and shame, and anger contending against the habitual deference he was in the use of rendering to his lady.  At length it ended, as is usual with timid minds placed in such circumstances, in his adopting a mezzo termine—­a middle measure.

“I tell you frankly, madam, I neither can nor will be guilty of the incivility you propose to the Master of Ravenswood; he has not deserved it at my hand.  If you will be so unreasonable as to insult a man of quality under your own roof, I cannot prevent you; but I will not at least be the agent in such a preposterous proceeding.”

“You will not?” asked the lady.

“No, by heavens, madam!” her husband replied; “ask me anything congruent with common decency, as to drop his acquaintance by degrees, or the like; but to bid him leave my house is what I will nto and cannot consent to.”

“Then the task of supporting the honour of the family will fall on me, as it has often done before,” said the lady.

She sat down, and hastily wrote a few lines.  The Lord Keeper made another effort to prevent her taking a step so decisive, just as she opened the door to call her female attendant from the ante-room.  “Think what you are doing, Lady Ashton:  you are making a mortal enemy of a young man who is like to have the means of harming us——­”