ght that she could now be
happy.

"It was very good of you," she whispered to Lady Sarah, as soon as he
had left them. "Of course I understand. I was very, very sorry that he
and Lord Brotherton had quarrelled. I won't say anything now about
anybody being wrong or anybody being right. But it would be dreadful to
me if papa couldn't come to see me. I don't think you know what he
is."

"I do know that you love him very dearly."

"Of course I do. There is nothing on earth he wouldn't do for me. He is
always trying to make me happy. And he'd do just as much for George, if
George would let him. You've been very good about it, and I love you
for it." Lady Sarah was quite open to the charm of being loved. She did
not talk much of such things, nor was it compatible with her nature to
make many professions of affection. But it would be a happiness to her
if this young sister-in-law, who would no doubt sooner or later be the
female head of the house, could be taught to love her. So she kissed
Mary, and then walked demurely away, conscious that any great display
of feeling would be antagonistic to her principles.

During the hour that Mary had been closeted with her father there had
been much difficulty among the ladies upstairs about the Dean. The
suggestion that he should be asked to dine had of course come from Lady
Sarah, and it fell like a little thunderbolt among them. In the first
place, what would Brotherton say? Was it not an understood portion of
the agreement under which they were allowed to live in the house, that
the Dean should not be a guest there? Lady Susanna had even shuddered
at his coming to call on his daughter, and they had all thought it to
be improper when a short time since he had personally brought the news
of Popenjoy's death to the house. And then there was their own
resentment as to that affray at Scumberg's. They were probably inclined
to agree with Lady Brabazon that Brotherton was not quite all that he
should be; but still he was Brotherton, and the man who had nearly
murdered him could not surely be a fit guest at Manor Cross. "I don't
think we can do that, Sarah," Lady Susanna had said after a long
silence. "Oh dear! that would be very dreadful!" the Marchioness had
exclaimed. Lady Amelia had clasped her hands together and had trembled
in every limb. But Lady Sarah, who never made any suggestion without
deep thought, was always loth to abandon any that she had made. She
clung to this with man