"My dear, extraordinary, entertaining little friend, what poor things do you mean?"
"Why, Frances and—"
"Frances—my companion—Frances Kane?"
"Yes, your companion. Only she oughtn't to be your companion, and she won't be long. Your companion, and my darling cousin, Frances Kane, and her lover."
"Her lover! I knew there was a love affair. That accounts for the pallor! Oh, naughty Frances; oh, cruel maiden, to deceive your Lucilla! I felt it, I guessed it, it throbbed in the air. Frances and her lover! My child, I adore lovers—let me get a peep at him. Dear Frances, dear girl! And is the course of true love going smoothly, miss—miss—I really don't know your name, my little charmer."
"My name is Fluff—please don't look round. It's a very melancholy love affair just at present, but I'm making it right."
"My little bewitching one, I would embrace you, but my poor miserable nerves won't permit of the least exertion. And so Frances, my Frances, has a lover! It was wrong of her, darling, not to tell of this."
"She gave him up to come to you."
"Oh, the noble girl! But do you think, my child, I would permit such a sacrifice? No, no; far rather would Lucilla Carnegie bury her sorrows in the lonely tomb. Lend me your handkerchief, sweet one—I can't find my own, and my tears overflow. Ah, my Frances, my Frances, I always knew you loved me, but to this extent—oh, it is too much!"
"But she didn't do it for you," said Fluff. "She wanted the money to help her father—he's such a cross, selfish old man. He wouldn't let her marry Philip, although Philip loved her for ten years, and saved all his pence in Australia to try and get enough money to marry her, and was nearly eaten himself by the blacks, but never forgot her day or night—and she loved him beyond anything. Don't you think, Mrs. Carnegie, that they ought to be married? Don't you think so?"