prudence had induced her to do so.  She felt that she was not fitted to be a poor man’s wife, and that Lord Ballindine was as ill suited for matrimonial poverty.  She had, therefore, induced herself to give him up; may-be she was afraid that if she delayed doing so, she might herself be given up.  Now, however, the case was altered; though she sincerely grieved for her brother, she could not but recollect the difference which his death made in her own position; she was now a great heiress, and, were she to marry Lord Ballindine, if she did not make him a rich man, she would, at any rate, free him from all embarrassment.

Besides, could she give him up now? now that she was rich?  He would first hear of her brother’s death and her wealth, and then would immediately be told that she had resolved to reject him.  Could she bear that she should be subjected to the construction which would fairly be put upon her conduct, if she acted in this manner?  And then, again, she felt that she loved him; and she did love him, more dearly than she was herself aware.  She began to repent of her easy submission to her guardian’s advice, and to think how she could best unsay what she had already said.  She had lost her brother; could she afford also to lose her lover?  She had had none she could really love but those two.  And the tears again came to her eyes, and Lady Selina saw her, for the twentieth time that morning, turn her face to the back of the sofa, and heard her sob.

Lady Selina was sitting at one of the windows, over her carpet-work frame.  She had talked a great deal of sound sense to Fanny that morning, about her brother, and now prepared to talk some more.  Preparatory to this, she threw back her long red curls from her face, and wiped her red nose, for it was February.

“Fanny, you should occupy yourself, indeed you should, my dear.  It’s no use your attempting your embroidery, for your mind would still wander to him that is no more.  You should read; indeed you should.  Do go on with Gibbon.  I’ll fetch it for you, only tell me where you were.”

“I could not read, Selina; I could not think about what I read, more than about the work.”

“But you should try, Fanny,—­the very attempt would be work to your mind:  besides, you would be doing your duty.  Could all your tears bring him back to you?  Can all your sorrow again restore him to his friends?  No! and you have great consolation, Fanny, in reflecting that your remembrance of your brother is mixed with no alloy.  He had not lived to be contaminated by the heartless vices of that portion of the world into which he would probably have been thrown; he had not become dissipated—­extravagant—­and sensual.  This should be a great consolation to you.”

It might be thought that Lady Selina was making sarcastic allusions to her own brother and to Fanny’s lover; but she meant nothing of the kind.  Her remarks were intended to be sensible, true, and consolatory; and they at any rate did no harm, for Fanny was thinking of something else before she had half finished her speech.