“Fanny,” said Lady Selina, raising up her thin red spiral tresses from her desk, and speaking in a firm, decided tone, as if well assured of the importance of the question she was going to put; “don’t you want some things from Ellis’s?”

“From where, Selina?” said Fanny, slightly starting.

“From Ellis’s,” repeated Lady Selina.

“Oh, the man in Grafton Street.—­No, thank you.”  And Fanny returned to her thoughts.

“Surely you do, Fanny,” said her ladyship.  “I’m sure you want black crape; you were saying so on Friday last.”

“Was I?—­Yes; I think I do.  It’ll do another time, Selina; never mind now.”

“You had better have it in the parcel he will send to-morrow; if you’ll give me the pattern and tell me how much you want, I’ll write for it.”

“Thank you, Selina.  You’re very kind, but I won’t mind it to-day.”

“How very foolish of you, Fanny; you know you want it, and then you’ll be annoyed about it.  You’d better let me order it with the other things.”

“Very well, dear:  order it then for me.”

“How much will you want? you must send the pattern too, you know.”

“Indeed, Selina, I don’t care about having it at all; I can do very well without it, so don’t mind troubling yourself.”

“How very ridiculous, Fanny!  You know you want black crape—­and you must get it from Ellis’s.”  Lady Selina paused for a reply, and then added, in a voice of sorrowful rebuke, “It’s to save yourself the trouble of sending Jane for the pattern.”

“Well, Selina, perhaps it is.  Don’t bother me about it now, there’s a dear.  I’ll be more myself by-and-by; but indeed, indeed, I’m neither well nor happy now.”

“Not well, Fanny!  What ails you?”

“Oh, nothing ails me; that is, nothing in the doctor’s way.  I didn’t mean I was ill.”

“You said you weren’t well; and people usually mean by that, that they are ill.”

“But I didn’t mean it,” said Fanny, becoming almost irritated, “I only meant—­” and she paused and did not finish her sentence.

Lady Selina wiped her pen, in her scarlet embroidered pen-wiper, closed the lid of her patent inkstand, folded a piece of blotting-paper over the note she was writing, pushed back the ruddy ringlets from her contemplative forehead, gave a slight sigh, and turned herself towards her cousin, with the purpose of commencing a vigorous lecture and cross-examination, by which she hoped to exorcise the spirit of lamentation from Fanny’s breast, and restore her to a healthful activity in the performance of this world’s duties.  Fanny felt what was coming; she could not fly; so she closed her book and her eyes, and prepared herself for endurance.