“If she be in my cousin’s hands I cannot believe that she will permit any harm to befall her,” said the good Major, still clinging to his faith in Urania—­the child he had taught to ride, and with whom he had danced her first minuet.

“What I dread most is her being forced into some low marriage,” said Mr. Belamour.  “The poor child’s faith in the ceremony that passed must have been overthrown, and who can tell what she may be induced to accept?”

“It was that threat which moved you?” said the Major.

“Yes.  Hargrave assured me that my Lady had actually offered her to him, with a bribe of a farm on easy terms; and when she found that he had other intentions, there seemed to be some broken-down sycophant of Mar’s upon the cards, but of course I was preferable, both because my fair sister-in-law has some lingering respect for the honour of her own blood, and because the bar between Aurelia and my nephew would be perpetual.  I knew likewise that it was my brother’s earnest desire that a match should take place between your children and his.

“He did me too much honour.  The lad showed me the extract from his letter.”

“I could not give him the whole.  It was fit for no eyes but mine, who had so long neglected it, and barely understood that it existed.  My poor brother’s eyes were fully opened to his wife’s character, and even while he loved her to distraction, and yielded to her fascinating mastery against his better judgment, he left me the charge of trying in some degree to repair the injustice he believed you to be suffering, and of counteracting evil influences on her son.”

“That seems at least to have been done.”

“By no efforts of mine; but because the boy was happily permitted to remain with the worthy tutor his father had chosen for him, and because Wayland is an excellent man, wise and prudent in all things save in being bewitched by a fair face.  Would that he were returned!  When I first consented to act this fool’s part, I trusted that he would have been at home soon enough to prevent more than the nominal engagement, and when my Lady’s threats rendered it needful to secure the poor child by giving her my name, I still expected him before my young gentleman should utterly betray himself by his warmth.”

“He tells me that he has written.”

“True.  On that I insisted, and I am the more uneasy, for there has been ample time for a reply.  It is only too likely, from what my nephew tells me of his venturesome explorations, that he may have fallen into the hands of the Moorish corsairs!  Hargrave says it is rumoured; but my Lady will not be checked in her career of pleasure, and if she is fearful of his return, she may precipitate matters with the poor girl!”

“Come, come, sir, I cannot have you give way to despondency.  You did your best, and if it did not succeed, it was owing to my foolish daughter Arden.  Why, if she was not satisfied about her sister, could she not have come here, and demanded an explanation?  That would have been the straightforward way!”