ment_. And I beg you will let me be with her; I
would much prefer being with any lady who would receive us both.'

'Very amiable,' said Mr. Crabbe.

'Ha!' interrupted Mervyn, 'you are not afraid I shall let Augusta carry
you off, Phoebe. She would give the world to get you, but I don't mean
to part with you.'

'It is of no use to talk to her, Mervyn,' cried Augusta's loud voice from
the other end of the room. 'She knows that she cannot remain with you.
Robert himself would tell her so.'

'Robert knows better than to interfere,' said Mervyn, with one of his
scowls. 'Now then, Phoebe, settle it for yourself. Will you stay and
keep house for me at home, or be Augusta's companion? There! the choice
of Hercules. Virtue or vice?' he added, trying to laugh.

'Neither,' said Phoebe, readily. 'My home is fixed by Maria's.'

'Phoebe, are you crazy?' broke out the three voices; while Sir Nicholas
slowly and sententiously explained that he regretted the unfortunate
circumstance, but Maria's peculiarities made it impossible to produce her
in society; and that when her welfare and happiness had been consulted by
retirement, Phoebe would find a home in his house, and be treated as Lady
Bannerman's sister, and a young lady of her expectations, deserved.

'Thank you,' said Phoebe; then turning to her brother, 'Mervyn, do you,
too, cast off poor Maria?'

'I told you what I thought of that long ago,' said Mervyn, carelessly.

'Very well, then,' said Phoebe, sadly; 'perhaps you will let us stay till
some lady can be found of whom Mr. Crabbe may approve, with whom Maria
and I can live.'

'Lady Acton!' Sir Bevil's voice was low and entreating, but all heard it.

'I am not going to encumber myself,' she answered. 'I always disliked
girls, and I shall certainly not make Acton Manor an idiot asylum.'

'And mind,' added Augusta, 'you won't cone to me for the season! I have
no notion of your leaving me all the dull part of the year for some gay
widow at a watering-place, and then expecting me to go out with you in
London.'

'By Heaven!' broke out Mervyn, 'they _shall_ stay here, if only to balk
your spite. My sisters shall not be driven from pillar to post the very
day their mother is put under ground.'

'Some respectable lady,' began Robert.

'Some horrid old harridan of a boarding-house keeper,' shouted Mervyn,
the louder for his interference. 'Ay, you would like it, and spend all
their fortunes on parsons in long c