d and inquiries, and to give
the stereotyped reply that her ladyship was as well as could be looked
for: but lifted astonished eyes, not without a gleam of insolence in
them, when Mrs. Warrender made the unexpected demand if Lady Markland
would see her. See _you_! If it had been the duchess, perhaps! was the
commentary legible in his face. He went in, however, with the card in
his hand, while she waited, half indignant, half amused, with little
doubt what the reply would be. But the reply was not at all what she
expected. After a minute or two of delay, another figure, quite different
from that of the butler, appeared on the steps: a tall man, with very
thin, unsteady legs, a face on which the ravages of age were visibly
repaired by many devices unknown to its simpler victims, with an
eye-glass in his eye and a hesitation in his speech. He was not unknown
to the society about, though he showed himself but rarely in it, and was
not beloved when he appeared. He was Lord Markland's uncle, the late
lord's only brother,--he who was supposed to have led the foolish young
man astray. Mrs. Warrender looked at him with a certain horror, as he
came walking gingerly down the steps. He made a very elaborate bow at
the carriage door,--if he were really Satan in person, as many people
thought, he was a weak-kneed Satan,--and gulped and stammered a good
deal (in which imperfections we need not follow him) as he made his
compliments. His niece, he said, had charged him with the kindest
messages, but she was ill and lying down. Would Mrs. Warrender excuse
her for to-day?

"She is most grateful for so much kindness; and there is a favour--ah, a
favour which I have to ask. It is, if you would add to your many kind
services----"

"I have rendered no kind services, Mr. Markland. The accident happened
at our doors."

"Ah, no less kind for that. My niece is very grateful, and I--and I,
too,--that goes without saying. If we might ask you to come to-morrow,
to remain with her while the last rites----"

"To remain with her! Are you sure that is Lady Markland's wish?"

"My dear lady, it is mine, and hers,--hers, too; again, that goes without
saying. She has no relations. She wants countenance,--countenance and
support; and who could give them so fitly as yourself? In the same
circumstances: accept my sincerest regrets. Mr. Warrender was, I have
alway heard, an excellent person, and must be a great loss. But you have
a son, I think."

"Yes