The Clever Woman of the Family

"It will be a pleasure of pleasures," said Ermine, eagerly.

"Then you will do me a favour, a very great favour," said Lady Temple,

laying hold of her hand again, "if you and your sister and niece will

come and stay with me." And as Ermine commenced her refusal, she went

on in the same coaxing way, with a description of her plans for Ermine's

comfort, giving her two rooms on the ground floor, and assuring her of

the absence of steps, the immunity from all teasing by the children, of

the full consent of her sister, and the wishes of the Colonel, nay, when

Ermine was still unpersuaded of the exceeding kindness it would be to

herself. "You see I am terribly young, really," she said, "though I

have so many boys, and my aunt thinks it awkward for me to have so

many officers calling, and I can't keep them away because they are my

father's and Sir Stephen's old friends; so please do come and make it

all right!"

Ermine was driven so hard, and so entirely deprived of all excuse, that

she had no alternative left but to come to the real motive.

"I ought not," she said, "it is not good for him, so you must not press

me, dear Lady Temple. You see it is best for him that nobody should ever

know of what has been between us."

"What! don't you mean--?" exclaimed Fanny, breaking short off.

"I cannot!" said Ermine.

"But he would like it. He wishes it as much as ever."

"I know he does," said Ermine, with a troubled voice; "but you see that

is because he did not know what a wretched remnant I am, and he never

has had time to think about any one else."

"Oh no, no."

"And it would be very unfair of me to take advantage of that, and give

him such a thing as I am."

"Oh dear, but that is very sad!" cried Fanny, looking much startled.

"But I am sure you must see that it is right."

"It may be right," and out burst Fanny's ready tears; "but it is very,

very hard and disagreeable, if you don't mind my saying so, when I know

it is so good of you. And don't you mean to let him even see you, when

he has been constant so long?"

"No; I see no reason for denying myself that; indeed I believe it is

better for him to grow used to me as I am, and be convinced of the

impossibility."

"Well then, why will you not come to me?"

"Do you not see, in all your kindness, that my coming to you would

make every one know the terms between us, while no one remarks his just

coming to me here as an old friend? And if he were ever to turn his mind

to any one else--"