“Kilcullen,” said the earl, across the table, “you don’t hear the bishop.  His lordship is asking you to drink wine with him.”

“I shall be most proud of the honour,” said the son, and bobbed his head at the bishop across the table.

Fanny was on the point of saying something respecting her brother to Lord Kilcullen, which would have created a kind of confidence between them, but the bishop’s glass of wine broke it off, and from that time Lord Kilcullen was forced by his father into a general conversation with his guests.

In the evening there was music and singing.  The Miss O’Joscelyns, and Miss Fitzgeralds, and Mr Hill, performed:  even Mat Tierney condescended to amuse the company by singing the “Coronation”, first begging the bishop to excuse the peculiar allusions to the “clargy”, contained in one of the verses; and then Fanny was asked to sing.  She had again become silent, dull, and unhappy, was brooding over her miseries and disappointments, and she declined.  Lord Kilcullen was behind her chair, and when they pressed her, he whispered to her, “Don’t sing for them, Fanny; it’s a shame that they should tease you at such a time; I wonder how my mother can have been so thoughtless.”

Fanny persisted in declining to sing—­and Lord Kilcullen again sat down beside her.  “Don’t trouble yourself about them, Fanny,” said he, “they’re just fit to sing to each other; it’s very good work for them.”

“I should think it very good work, as you call it, for myself, too, another time; only I’m hardly in singing humour at present, and, therefore, obliged to you for your assistance and protection.”

“Your most devoted knight as long as this fearful invasion lasts!—­your Amadis de Gaul—­your Bertrand du Guesclin [45]!  And no paladin of old ever attempted to defend a damsel from more formidable foes.”

[FOOTNOTE 45:  Amadis . . . du Guesclin—­mediaeval heroes.  Amadis
de Gaul was the title hero of a 14th century
romantic novel, probably first written in Spanish,
which was popular throughout Europe.  Bertrand du
Guesclin was a historical figure, a fourteenth
century French soldier and Marshall of France.]

“Indeed, Adolphus, I don’t think them so formidable.  Many of them are my own friends.”

“Is Mrs Ellison your own friend?—­or Mrs Moore?”

“Not exactly those two, in particular.”

“Who then?  Is it Miss Judith O’Joscelyn? or is the Reverend Mr Hill one of those to whom you give that sweetest of all names?”

“Yes; to both of them.  It was only this morning I had a long tete-a-tete—­”

“What, with Mr Hill?”

“No, not with Mr Hill though it wouldn’t be the first even with him, but with Judith O’Joscelyn.  I lent her a pattern for worsted work.”

“And does that make her your friend?  Do you give your friendship so easily?”

“You forget that I’ve known her for years.”