Mrs Chartley’s face lightened a little. “So the Rector says. I own, there is no infatuation in question now. I don’t leave them alone together, I need hardly say, but even if I allowed my daughter the license Tiffany has I am persuaded Lindeth would not flirt with her. Indeed, I have been agreeably surprised in him! Under the gaiety which makes his manners so taking, there is a strong vein of seriousness. He feels as he ought on all important subjects, and the tone of his mind is particularly nice.”

“But in spite of this you do not wish for the connection, ma’am?” Ancilla asked, a little puzzled.

“My dear, a very strange creature I should be if I did not wish for such an advantageous connection for my daughter! If he is sincere, nothing would please me more than to see her so well-established. But although they are not unequal in birth they are unequal in consequence. Nor is Patience an heiress. She will have some four thousand pounds, but that, though it is a respectable portion, might be thought paltry by Lindeth’s family. From things he has let fall, about disliking ton parties, and being the despair of his mother—in his funning way, you know!—I suspect that the family wish him to make what is called a brilliant marriage, and might be strongly opposed to his marriage to a country clergyman’s daughter.” She paused, and rather aimlessly shifted the position of a book lying on the table at her elbow. “I had fancied that Sir Waldo had been his guardian, but I understand this was not the case. At the same time, there can be no doubt that he has stood in much that position. Nor that his influence over Lindeth is great. That, my dear Miss Trent, is why I have been anxious to have the opportunity of talking to you. If there is any fear that Sir Waldo might exert himself to prevent the marriage—even if he should merely dislike it—I would not upon any account continue to permit Lindeth to visit us as he now does. Neither the Rector nor I would countenance the alliance if it had not the approbation of Lindeth’s family. You will understand, I am persuaded, why I am in a quandary, and why I made up my mind to admit you into my confidence. Tell me! What are Sir Waldo’s sentiments upon this occasion?”

Miss Trent felt her colour rising, but she responded in a steady voice: “I am honoured by your confidence, ma’am, but Sir Waldo has not taken me into his. I wish I might be able to help you, but it is not in my power.”

Mrs Chartley raised her eyes, directing a slightly sceptical look at her. “If that is so, there is no more to be said, of course. I ventured to put the question to you because I know you to be far better acquainted with him than anyone else in the district.”

There was silence for a few moments. Then Miss Trent drew a breath, and said: “I have been obliged to be a good deal in his company, ma’am, but I do not stand upon such intimate terms with him as—as you seem to suggest.” She managed to smile. “My sins have found me out! I allowed myself to be persuaded to accept Lady Colebatch’s invitation, and was imprudent enough to waltz with Sir Waldo, twice. I have been made to regret it. I’m afraid the pleasure of dancing again, after such a long time, went to my head!”

Mrs Chartley’s face softened; she leaned forward, and briefly clasped one of Ancilla’s hands. “No wonder! I perfectly understand. But—My dear, will you permit me to speak frankly to you? You are a young woman, in spite of your sober ways! And you have not your mama at hand to advise you, have you? I am most sincerely fond of you, so you must forgive me if I seem to you to take too much upon myself. I have been feeling a little anxious about you, for I’m afraid you may be cherishing hopes which are unlikely to be fulfilled. Don’t think that I blame you! Sir Waldo’s attentions have been marked: it is even common knowledge that not a day has passed since Charlotte has been laid up without his calling on you at Staples.”

“To enquire after her progress—to bring her what he thought might entertain her!” Ancilla uttered, her throat constricted.

“My dear!” protested Mrs Chartley, with a slight laugh.

“Ma’am, I only once saw him—and then in company!”

“If you tell me so, I believe you, but it will be a hard task to convince others.”

“I am aware of it, ma’am,” said Ancilla bitterly. “I am held to be setting my cap at him, am I not?”

“We need not concern ourselves with expressions of spite. That is not at all my opinion. What makes me uneasy is his pursuit of you.If it had been any other man than Sir Waldo, I should have known it to be a determined courtship, and I should have been expecting every day to be able to wish you happy—for you cannot conceal from me, my dear, that you are by no means indifferent to him. That doesn’t surprise me in the least: I fancy there are few women strong-minded enough to withstand him. Even I—and he does not make up to me, you know!—am very conscious of his charm. I think him dangerously attractive, and don’t for a moment doubt that a great many females have fallen in love with him.”

“Did Mrs Mickleby tell you so, ma’am?”

“On the authority of her cousin in London. I should be sorry to place too much reliance on mere gossip, but it has been to some extent borne out by Lindeth—not, you may be sure, with any intention of traducing his cousin. Indeed, the reverse! He often talks about Sir Waldo, and always with admiration—I had almost said, with pride! And one must bear in mind, my dear Miss Trent, that Sir Waldo belongs to a certain set which is considered to be the very height of fashion. In fact, he is its leader, and very much a man of the world. You must know, perhaps better than I do, that the manners and too often the conduct of those who are vulgarly called Top-of-the-Trees are not governed by quite the same principles which are the rule in more modest circles.”

“Are you trying to warn me, ma’am, that Sir Waldo is a libertine?” asked Ancilla bluntly.

“Oh, good gracious! No!” exclaimed Mrs Chartley. “You must not think—my dear, I beg you won’t say that I said that! No doubt he has had his—shall we say his adventures?—but pray don’t imagine that I suspect him of—of—”

“Offering me a carte blanche? That, I believe, is the term, is it not? I promise you I should not accept it!”

Mrs Chartley was thrown still more off her balance by this, and said: “No, no! I don’t suspect him of meaning to do you the least harm! What I fear is that he may harm you unwittingly, not realizing that you might fall far more deeply in love with him than he knew, or intended. He is accustomed to associate, recollect, with fashionable females who understand the rules of flirtation as you, I am happy to say, do not. Very likely he has been a trifle misled into thinking you are as worldly wise as any of his London flirts: you are posée beyond your years, you know! He would not, I am persuaded, tamper with the affections of a girl whom he knew to be inexperienced.”

“But you don’t hold him in very high esteem, do you, ma’am?” said Ancilla, with a painful smile.

“Oh, you are quite mistaken! In some respects, I hold him in the highest esteem!” Mrs Chartley replied quickly. “I have every reason—” She checked herself, colouring, and added: “All I wish to say to you, my dear, is that you should be on your guard. Don’t refine too much upon his gallantry, but recollect that he is a man of five or six-and-thirty, handsome, rich, very much courted—and still a bachelor!”

Miss Trent began to pull on her gloves. “I do recollect it,” she said, in a low voice. “I am very much obliged to you for your kindness in—in warning me, ma’am, but I beg you to believe that it was unnecessary! You have told me nothing that I haven’t told myself.” She rose. “I must go. I wish I might have been able to give you the assurance you want. I cannot—but I don’t think Sir Waldo would ever stand in the way of what he saw to be Lindeth’s happiness.”

“Thank you: I hope you may be right. Did you come in the gig? I’ll walk with you to the stables. By the bye, what has been the outcome of Mr Calver’s Harrogate scheme? I can picture your dismay! We heard of it from Lindeth, and from what he did not say I collect that Tiffany was sadly disappointed by her aunt’s refusal to countenance it!”

Ancilla laughed. “Not sadly, ma’am! Furiously! Lord Lindeth made good his escape when he saw the storm about to break. I fancy we shall hear no more of the scheme.”

“You must be thankful for it! A very rackety suggestion to have put forward! I daresay you will be glad to see the last of that young man.”

“Well, I own that I can’t like Mr Calver, but I should be doing him less than justice if I didn’t tell you that when he saw that Mrs Underhill disliked the scheme he let it drop immediately. I must say, too, that I have felt very much more cordial since he confessed to me that he had spoken without reflection, meaning only to divert Tiffany’s mind, and was sincerely sorry for it. He assured me I might depend upon him to discover a hundred reasons, if it should be necessary, why the scheme was ineligible! He was extremely civil—as, indeed, he has always been.”

They had reached the stables; and they parted on this lighter note. Mrs Chartley stayed only until Ancilla had stepped up into the gig, and then walked back to the house, along the garden-path. Ancilla drove out of the stable-gate, and turned into the village street. Before the cob had broken into a trot a phaeton, drawn by a team of chestnuts, swept round the bend immediately ahead. Knowing herself to be in full view of the Rectory, Miss Trent saw with dismay that Sir Waldo was checking his team, with the evident intention of pulling up alongside the gig. There seemed to be nothing to do but to follow suit, since to urge the cob into a trot at that moment would be so uncivil as to make Sir Waldo think that she was trying to avoid a meeting.