Mrs. Curtis's regular habits were a good deal shocked to find Fanny
still at the breakfast table. The children had indeed long finished,
and were scattered about the room, one of them standing between Colonel
Keith's knees, repeating a hymn; but the younger guest was still in the
midst of his meal, and owned in his usual cool manner that he was to
blame for the lateness, there was no resisting the charms of no morning
parade.
Her aunt's appearance made Fanny imagine it much later than it really
was, and she hurried off the children to be dressed, and proceeded
herself to her room, Mrs. Curtis following, and by way of preliminary,
asking when Colonel Keith was going to Ireland.
"Oh!" said Fanny, blushing most suspiciously under her secret, "he is
not going to Ireland now."
"Indeed! I quite understood he intended it."
"Yes," faltered Fanny, "but he found that he need not."
"Indeed!" again ejaculated poor perplexed Mrs. Curtis; "but then, at
least, he is going away soon."
"He must go to Scotland by-and-by, but for the present he is going into
lodgings. Do you know of any nice ones, dear aunt?"
"Well, I suppose you can't help that; you know, my dear, it would never
do for him to stay in this house."
"I never thought of that," said Fanny simply, the colour coming in a
fresh glow.
"No, my dear, but you see you are very young and inexperienced. I do not
say you have done anything the least amiss, or that you ever would mean
it, only you will forgive your old aunt for putting you on your guard."
Fanny kissed her, but with eyes full of tears, and cheeks burning, then
her candour drew from her--"It was he that thought of getting a lodging.
I am glad I did not persuade him not; but you know he always did live
with us."
"With us. Yes, my poor dear, that is the difference, and you see he
feels it. But, indeed, my dear child, though he is a very good man, I
dare say, and quite a gentleman all but his beard, you had better not
encourage--You know people are so apt to make remarks."
"I have no fear," said Fanny, turning away her head, conscious of the
impossibility of showing her aunt her mistake.
"Ah! my dear, you don't guess how ready people are to talk; and
you would not like--for your children's sake, for your husband's
sake--that--that--"
"Pray, pray aunt," cried Fanny, much pained, "indeed you don't know. My
husband had confidence in him more than in any one. He told him to
take care of me and look after the boys. I couldn't hold aloof from him
without transgressing those wishes"--and the words were lost in a sob.