My second day at Sundridge was spent with my uncle and my cousins,
Frances remaining at home with us. Adroit Sarah had talked with her
father about the maid-of-honorship and had found an opportunity to tell
me that while he was not yet persuaded, he was at least in a receptive
mood, ready to listen to what I had to say. In the evening Frances and
Sarah went off to bed early, leaving Sir Richard to the mercies of myself
and a flagon of wormwood wine which I had brought in as an ally from the
Black Dog Tavern.

At first when I broached the subject of Frances becoming a maid of honor,
he turned away from me, saying:--

"I fear, nephew, I fear! I confess that I did not expect the suggestion
to come from you; you know the court even better than I do. My dear boy,
we might as well send the little girl to the devil at once."

"Whitehall is no heaven, I admit," I answered. "But you don't know
Frances. She will be as safe at court as she is in your house. The devil
is everywhere, uncle, if one chooses to seek him."

"That is true, Ned."

"And Frances will not seek him anywhere. Of that I was sure before I
determined to suggest this matter. It is true she has seen nothing of
life beyond the pale of your influence and protection, but you are well
along in years, uncle, and must face the truth that your daughters will
have to confront the world without you, sooner or later--later, I hope."

"That terrible truth is my only reason to fear death," returned Sir
Richard, sighing and leaning back in his chair.