His attentions are too particular to suit my old-fashioned notions. That makes me into a Bath quiz, I dare say, but you know, my dear, when a man of fashion and address makes a child of Fanny’s age the object of his attentions it is not to be wondered at that she should be dazzled into losing her head, or be easily brought to believe that the rules of conduct, in which she has been reared, are outmoded—quite provincial, in fact!”

Abby nodded. “ Such as the impropriety of strolling about the Sydney Gardens with him? Give me a round tale, ma’am!—Have there been other—oh, clandestine meetings?”

“I am afraid so. Oh, nothing of a serious nature, or that is generally known, or—or that you will not speedily put an end to! I might not have spoken to you, if that had been all, for it’s no bread-and-butter of mine, and I don’t relish the office of being your intelligencer, but I have some reason to think that it is not quite all, and am a great deal too fond of Fanny not to tell you that certain things I have learned from what Lavinia—in all innocence!—has let fall, I apprehend that this unfortunate affair may be rather more serious than I had at first supposed. To what extent Lavinia is in Fanny’s confidence I don’t know, and—I must confess—shrink from enquiring, because perhaps, if she thought I was trying to discover a secret reposed in her, she would fob me off, even prevaricate, and certainly, in the future, guard her tongue when she talked to me. That may seem foolish to you: the thing is she has been so close a companion to me, so open and trusting in her affection—” Her voice became suspended. She shook her head, saying, after a moment’s struggle: “I can’t explain it to you!”

“There is not the least need,” Abby responded. “I understand you perfectly, ma’am. Don’t fear me! I promise you I shan’t let Fanny so much as suspect that Lavinia betrayed her confidence.