"Me!" said Mrs. Willoughby, with a strange intonation.

"Yes, you--oh yes; really now."

"Oh, you little goose, you always think of people rushing after one
and carrying one off."

"Well, I'm sure I've had reason to. So many people have always been
running after me, and snatching me up as if I were a parcel, and
carrying me every where in all sorts of places. And I think it's too
bad, and I really wish they'd stop it. But, Kitty dear--

"What?"

"About this Scone Dacres. Don't you really think there's something
very peculiarly sad, and very delightfully interesting and pathetic,
and all that sort of thing, in his poor dear old face?"

"I think Scone Dacres has suffered a great deal," said Mrs.
Willoughby, in a thoughtful tone. "But come now. Let us go to Ethel.
She's lonely."

Soon after they joined the other ladies, and talked over the project
of going to Rome. Lady Dalrymple offered no objection; indeed, so far
as she had any choice, she preferred it. She was quite willing at all
times to do whatever the rest proposed, and also was not without some
curiosity as to the proceedings during holy-week. Ethel offered no
objections either. She had fallen into a state of profound melancholy,
from which nothing now could rouse her, and so she listened listlessly
to the discussion about the subject. Mrs. Willoughby and Minnie had