"Indeed, mamma, I prayed for him," said Fanny, lifting her eyes to Heaven; "I prayed most earnestly, that Heaven might bring him wisdom to succour you according to your wish, and therein to heal all our troubles."
"And your prayers have been heard, my dear child; and it hath sent him the wisdom that we all so greatly needed.—Have they had tea in the drawing-room, Fanny?"
"I don't know, mamma. I have been kneeling and praying all the time."
"Then, my dear, you must want refreshment. Go down and tell them that I am not quite well this evening, and shall therefore not come down again; but they may send me some tea by Curtis."
"I hope you are not very ill, my dearest mother?" said Fanny, looking, anxiously at her.
"No, dear,—not very ill—only a little nervous."
While these scenes passed at Mowbray Park, poor Charles was relieving his heart by relating, without reserve, what had passed between him and his mother. His first words on entering the library, where Sir Gilbert and Lady Harrington were seated, were, "Have you sent that letter to Oxford, Sir Gilbert?"
"Yes, I have," was the reply. "But why do you inquire, Charles?"
"Because, if you had not, I would have begged you to delay it."