'I have remarked, and intensely disapprove of these apparently secret meetings, conferences, or confidences, which you will, between persons in the very different relative positions of my grandson, young Mr. Melfort, and yourself, Miss Carlyon. They are, to say the least of them, very unseemly.'
'Lady Fettercairn!——' began Dulcie, almost passionately, and with crimsoned cheeks. But the dame, full of one idea only, moved her head and resumed again, and pretty pointedly too:
'You are no doubt perfectly aware, as you have resided some months among us, that my grandson is destined for his cousin, Miss Melfort; and if her friend—as you say you are—you are somewhat too much in his society.'
'Can I help it?' said Dulcie, in the dependency of her position compelled to temporize. 'I do not thrust mine on him—quite the reverse, Lady Fettercairn.'
'Finella does not seem to affect her cousin, I regret to say.'
'I think so too.'
'Thus, if she has mortified him, his heart may be easily caught on the rebound.'
'By me?' asked Dulcie, in a straight-forward manner.
'Yes,' replied Lady Fettercairn, sharply and icily.
'My position in your house will never permit me to dishonour myself.'