About eleven o’clock the Fairmead pony-carriage stopped at the door, containing Mr. Ferrars, the Captain, Aunt Gertrude, and little Willie.  Albinia, her husband, and Lucy, were soon in the drawing-room welcoming them; and Lucy fetched her little brother, who had been vociferous for three days about Cousin Fred, the real soldier, but now, struck with awe at the mighty personage, stood by his mamma, profoundly silent, and staring.  He was ungracious to his aunt, and still more so to Willie, the latter of whom was despatched under Lucy’s charge to find Gilbert, but they came back unsuccessful.  Nor did Sophy make her appearance; she was reported to be reading to grandmamma—­Mrs. Meadows preferred to Miss Ferrars! there was more in this than Albinia could make out, and she sat uneasily till she could exchange a few words with Lucy.  ’My dear, what is become of the other two?’

‘I am sure I don’t know what is the matter with them,’ said Lucy.  ’Gilbert is gone out—­nobody knows where—­and when I told Sophy who was here, she said Captain Ferrars was an empty-headed coxcomb, and she did not want to see him!’

‘Oh! the geese!’ murmured Albinia to herself, till the comical suspicion crossed her mind that Gilbert was jealous, and that Sophy was afraid of falling a victim to the redoubtable lady killer.

Luncheon-time produced Sophy, grave and silent, but no Gilbert, and Mr. Kendal, receiving no satisfactory account of his absence, said, ‘Very strange,’ and looked annoyed.

Captain Ferrars seemed to have expected to see his bright little partner of Thursday, for he inquired for her, and Willie imparted the information that Fred had taken her for Sophy all the time!  Fred laughed, and owned it, but asked if she were not really the governess?  ‘A governess,’ said Albinia, ‘but not ours,’ and an explanation followed, during which Sophy blushed violently, and held up her head as if she had an iron bar in her neck.

‘A pity,’ said the Lancer, when he had heard who she was, and under his moustache he murmured to Albinia, ’She is rather in Emily’s style.’

‘Oh, Fred,’ thought Albinia, ’after all, it may be lucky that you aren’t going to stay here!’

When Albinia was alone with her brother, she could not help saying, ’Maurice, you were right to scold me; I reproached you with thinking life made up of predicaments.  I think mine is made of blunders!’

‘Ah!  I saw you were harassed to-day,’ said her brother kindly.

‘Whenever one is happy, one does something wrong!’

‘I guess—­’

’You are generous not to say you warned me months ago.  Mind, it is no fault of hers, she is behaving beautifully; but oh! the absurdity, and the worst of it is, I have promised not to tell Edmund.’

‘Then don’t tell me.  You have a judgment quite good enough for use.’

’No, I have not.  I have only sense, and that only serves me for what other people ought to do.’