“North Parade!” exclaimed Annis. “My poor child, can it be that you are going to visit Mrs Nibley?”

“Yes,” faltered Lucilla, dismayed by Miss Wychwood’s very obvious pity. “The Honourable Mrs Nibley, which made me think she must be a perfectly respectable person. Isn’t she, ma’am?”

“Oh, yes! A pattern-card of respectability!” answered Annis. “Renowned in Bath as the town’s worst archwife! She has had I don’t know how many active and genteel ladies to wait on her hand and foot during the three years I’ve been acquainted with her. Either they leave her house in strong hysterics, or she turns them off because they have not been sufficiently active or willing! My dear, do believe me when I tell you that the post she offers would not do for you!”

“I guessed as much!” interpolated Mr Elmore, not without satisfaction.

Lucilla bore all the appearance of having sustained a stunning blow, but at this her spirit flickered up in a brief revival, and she said: “No, you didn’t! Pray, how could you have guessed anything of the sort?”

“Well, at all events, I guessed no good would come of such a bird-witted start, and I said so at the time! You can’t deny that! Now what do you mean to do?”

“I don’t know,” said Lucilla, her lips trembling. “I shall have to think of something.”

“There’s only one thing you can do, and that is to return to Mrs Amber,” he said.

“Oh, no, no, no!” she cried passionately. “I would rather hire myself out as a cook-maid than go back to be scolded, and reproached, and told I had made my aunt ill, and forced to many you, which is what would happen, on account of my having run away with you! And it wouldn’t be the least use to tell my aunt, or your papa, that I didn’t run away with you, but away from you, because even if they believed me they would think it worse,and say we must be married!”