Lady Vargrave looked over his shoulder as he bent down to read, and at
times placed her finger on such passages as she wished him to note. The
old curate nodded as she did so; but neither spoke till the letter was
concluded.

The curate then folded up the epistle, took off his spectacles, hemmed,
and looked grave.

"Well," said Lady Vargrave, anxiously, "well?"

"My dear friend, the letter requires consideration. In the first place,
it is clear to me that, in spite of Lord Vargrave's presence at the
rectory, his lordship so manages matters that the poor child is unable of
herself to bring that matter to a conclusion. And, indeed, to a mind so
sensitively delicate and honourable, it is no easy task."

"Shall I write to Lord Vargrave?"

"Let us think of it. In the meanwhile, this Mr. Maltravers--"

"Ah, this Mr. Maltravers!"

"The child shows us more of her heart than she thinks of; and yet I
myself am puzzled. If you observe, she has only once or twice spoken of
the Colonel Legard whom she has made acquaintance with; while she treats
at length of Mr. Maltravers, and confesses the effect he has produced on
her mind. Yet, do you know, I more dread the caution respecting the
first than all the candour that betrays the influence of the last? There
is a great difference between first fancy and first love."