"I believe—I think I can guess."
"Oh, I suppose you told St. Aubyn you had met with a cross, disagreeable old woman at Lady Meredith's, and he told you it must have been his aunt, Lady Juliana Mordaunt."
"Indeed, Madam," said Ellen, blushing a little at a statement so near the truth.
"Nay, don't tell lies, child," bluntly replied the old lady. "I hate flattery; besides, your countenance won't let you. I know what I am, which is more than every body can say. And do you generally spend your mornings in this manner?"
"Generally, unless my Lord wishes me to go any where with him."
"And what do you do in the evening?"
"Lord St. Aubyn, Miss Cecil, and myself, sit together: we net or work, while he reads to us, unless Miss Cecil is sufficiently in spirits to give us some music."
"And have you no idea, child, how ridiculous the fashionable people think all this?"
"I am sorry for it."
"But will you persist in the same plan?" Ellen smiled.