his
speech. He contrived to get a compartment to himself, and there he
practised his lesson till he felt that further practice would only
confuse him.

"You had Fanny at the Castle the other day," Lady Kingsbury said the
next morning to her niece.

"Mamma thought it would be good-natured to ask them both."

"They did not deserve it. Their conduct has been such that I am
forced to say that they deserve nothing from my family. Did she speak
about this marriage of hers?"

"She did mention it."

"Well!"

"Oh, there was nothing. Of course there was much more to say about
mine. She was saying that she would be glad to be a bridesmaid."

"Pray don't have her."

"Why not, aunt?"

"I could not possibly be there if you did. I have been compelled to
divorce her from my heart."

"Poor Fanny!"

"But she was not ashamed of what she is doing?"

"I should say not. She is not one of those that are ever ashamed."

"No, no. Nothing would make her ashamed. All ideas of propriety she
has banished from her,--as though they didn't exist. I expect to hear
that she disregards marriage altogether."

"Aunt Clara!"

"What can you expect from doctrines such as those which she and her
brother share? Thank God, you have never been in the way of hearing
of such things. It breaks my heart when I think of what my own
darlings will be sure to hear some of these days,--should their
half-brother and half-sister still be left alive. But, Amaldina,
pray do not have her for one of your bridesmaids." Lady Amaldina,
remembering that her cousin was very handsome, and also that there
might be a difficulty in making up the twenty titled virgins, gave
her aunt no promise.

CHAPTER XX.

THE SCHEME IS SUCCESSFUL.

When the matter was mentioned to George Roden by his mother he could
see no reason why she should not dine at Hendon Hall. He himself was
glad to have an opportunity of getting over that roughness of feeling
which had certainly existed between him and his friend when they
parted with each other on the road. As to his mother, it would be
well that she should so far return to the usages of the world as to
dine at the house of her son's friend. "It is only going back to what
you used to be," he said.

"You know nothing of what I used to be," she replied, almost angrily.

"I ask no questions, and have endeavoured so to train myself that I
should care but little about it. But I knew it was so." Then after
a pause he went bac