Mrs. Carradyne returned to her seat. She thought the opportunity had come to say something to her niece which she had been wanting to say.
"You invited Mr. Grame, Eliza?"
"I did," said Eliza, looking defiance.
"My dear," resumed Mrs. Carradyne with some hesitation, "forgive me if I offer you a word of advice. You have no mother; I pray you to listen to me in her stead. You must change your line of behaviour to Mr. Grame."
Eliza's dark face turned red and haughty. "I do not understand you, Aunt Emma."
"Nay, I think you do understand me, my dear. You have incautiously allowed yourself to fall into—into an undesirable liking for Mr. Grame. An unseemly liking, Eliza."
"Unseemly!"
"Yes; because it has not been sought. Cannot you see, Eliza, how he instinctively recedes from it? how he would repel it were he less the gentleman than he is? Child, I shrink from saying these things to you, but it is needful. You have good sense, Eliza, keen discernment, and you might see for yourself that it is not to you Mr. Grame's love is given—or ever will be."
For once in her life Eliza Monk allowed herself to betray agitation. She opened her trembling lips to speak, but closed them again.
"A moment yet, Eliza. Let us suppose, for argument's sake, that Mr. Grame loved you; that he wished to marry you; you know, my dear, how utterly useless it would be. Your father would not suffer it."