d you--nay, if
you consult what you know would have been his wishes--you will give up
this project.'

The luncheon-bell had already rung, and consideration for the busy
clergyman compelled her to go down with these last words, feeling as if
there were a leaden weight at her heart.

Lucilla remained standing before the glass, arranging her wind-tossed
hair; and, in her vehemence, tearing out combfuls, as she pulled
petulantly against the tangled curls. 'Her old way--to come over me with
my father! Ha!--I love him too well to let him be Miss Charlecote's
engine for managing me!--her _dernier ressort_ to play on my feelings.
Nor will I have Robin set at me! Whether I go or not, shall be as I
please, not as any one else does; and if I stay at home, Rashe shall own
it is not for the sake of the conclave here. I told her she might trust
me.'

Down she went, and at luncheon devoted herself to the captivation of Mr.
Parsons; afterwards insisting on going to the schools--she, whose
aversion to them was Honora's vexation at home. Strangers to make a
sensation were contrary to the views of the Parsonses; but the wife found
her husband inconsistent--'one lady, more or less, could make no
difference on this first Sunday;' and, by and by, Mrs. Parsons found a
set of little formal white-capped faces, so beaming with entertainment,
at the young lady's stories, and the young lady herself looking so
charming, that she, too, fell under the enchantment.

After church, Miss Charlecote proposed a few turns in the garden; dingy
enough, but a marvel for the situation: and here the tacit object of
herself and Phoebe was to afford Robert an opportunity for the interview
on which so much depended. But it was like trying to catch a butterfly;
Lucilla was here, there, everywhere; and an excuse was hardly made for
leaving her beside the grave, silent young man, ere her merry tones were
heard chattering to some one else. Perhaps Robert, heart-sick and
oppressed with the importance of what trembled on his tongue, was not
ready in seizing the moment; perhaps she would not let him speak; at any
rate, she was aware of some design; since, baffling Phoebe's last
attempt, she danced up to her bedroom after her, and throwing herself
into a chair, in a paroxysm of laughter, cried, 'You abominable little
pussycat of a manoeuvrer; I thought you were in a better school for the
proprieties! No, don't make your round eyes, and look so dismayed, or
you