ain bitterly.
"Gather figs of thistles, if you will, but don't expect money from
Blandamers."

Anastasia's thumb went into the curry as she lifted the dish, but she
did not notice it. She was only eager to get away, to place herself
outside the reach of these slanderous tongues, to hide herself where she
could unburden her heart of its bitterness. Mr Sharnall fired one more
shaft at her as she left the room.

"He takes after his grandfather in other ways besides close-fistedness.
The old man had a bad enough name with women, and this man has a worse.
They are a poor lot--lock, stock, and barrel."

Lord Blandamer had certainly been unhappy in the impression which he
created at Bellevue Lodge; a young lady had diagnosed his countenance as
hard and cruel, an architect had detected niggardliness in his
disposition, and an organist was resolved to regard him at all hazards
as a personal foe. It was fortunate indeed for his peace of mind that
he was completely unaware of this, but, then, he might not perhaps have
troubled much even if he had known all about it. The only person who
had a good word for him was Miss Euphemia Joliffe. She woke up flushed,
but refreshed, after her nap, and found the supper-things washed and put
away in their places.

"My dear, my dear," she said deprecatingly, "I am afraid I have been
asleep, and left all the work to you. You should not have done this,
Anastasia. You ought to have awakened me." The flesh was weak, and she
was forced to hold her hand before her mouth for a moment to conceal a
yawn; but her mind reverted instinctively to the great doings of the
day, and she said with serene reflection: "A very remarkable man, so
dignified and yet so affable, and _very_ handsome too, my dear."

CHAPTER NINE.

Among the letters which the postman brought to Bellevue Lodge on the
morning following these remarkable events was an envelope which
possessed a dreadful fascination. It bore a little coronet stamped in
black upon the flap, and "Edward Westray, Esquire, Bellevue Lodge,
Cullerne," written on the front in a bold and clear hand. But this was
not all, for low in the left corner was the inscription "Blandamer." A
single word, yet fraught with so mystical an import that it set
Anastasia's heart beating fast as she gave it to her aunt, to be taken
upstairs with the architect's breakfast.

"There is a letter for you, sir, from Lord Blandamer," Miss Joliffe
said, as she put down t