noying him by what he may think small, ignorant, country-town ways!
You will understand--'

Lady Kirkaldy did understand, and she dreaded what might be before the
sweet little yielding woman, not from want of breeding so much as from
the long-indulged selfishness of her husband; but she encouraged her as
much as possible, and promised all possible counsel, bringing her
downstairs again just in time.

'Pretty little soul!' said Lord Kirkaldy, as the fly clattered away. 'I
wonder whether Mark has done her a kindness!'

'It is just what she is, a pretty, nay, a beautiful soul, full of
tenderness and forgiveness and affection and humility, only I doubt
whether there is any force or resolution to hold her own. You smile!
Well, perhaps the less of that she has the better she may get on with
him. Did he say anything about her?'

'No; I think he wants to ignore that they have not spent the last
twenty years together.'

'That may be the best way for all parties. Do you think he will behave
well to her?'

'No man could well do otherwise to such a sweet little thing,' said
Lord Kirkaldy; 'especially as she will be his most obedient slave, and
will make herself necessary to him. It is much better luck than he
deserves; but I pity her when she comes to make her way with yon
ladies!'

'I wish I was there! I know she will let herself be trodden on!
However, there's Mark to stand up for her, and William Egremont will do
whatever he thinks right and just. I wish I knew how his wife will
take it!'

CHAPTER X.

BRIDGEFIELD EGREMONT.

'Let us see these handsome houses
Where the wealthy nobles dwell.'--TENNYSON.

'Mother, mother!' cried two young people, bursting open the door of the
pretty dining-room of Bridgefield Rectory, where the grown-up part of
the family were lingering over a late breakfast.

'Gently, gently, children,' said the dignified lady at the head of the
table. 'Don't disturb papa.'

'But we really have something to say, mother!' said the elder girl,
'and Fraulein said you ought to know. Uncle Alwyn is come home, and
Mrs. Egremont. And please, are we to call her Aunt Egremont, or Aunt
Alwyn, or what?'

The desired sensation was produced. Canon Egremont put down his
newspaper. The two elder sisters looked from one to the other in
unmitigated astonishment. Mark briefly made answer to the final
question, 'Aunt Alice,' and Mrs. Egremont said gravely, 'How did you
hear this, Rosalind?