"No, indeed," she exclaimed, "who could? It was too preposterous to
be dreamt of by any one. At his age, too, one would have thought he
might have known better."

A secret sense of amusement crossed the Colonel, as he recollected
that the disparity between Fanny Curtis and Sir Stephen Temple had
been far greater than that between Lady Temple and Lord Keith, but
the little gentle lady was just at present more like a fury than he
had thought possible, evidently regarding what had just passed as an
insult to her husband and an attack on the freedom of all her sons.
In answer to a few sympathising words on the haste of his brother's
proceeding, she burst out again with indignation almost amusing in
one so soft-- "Haste! Yes! I did think that people would have had
some respect for dear, dear Sir Stephen," and her gush of tears came
with more of grief and less of violence, as if she for the first time
felt herself unprotected by her husband's name.

"I am very much concerned," he repeated, feeling sympathy safer than
reasoning. "If I could have guessed his intentions, I would have
tried to spare you this; at least the suddenness of it. I could not
have guessed at such presumptuous expectations on so short an
acquaintance."

"He did not expect me to answer at once," said Fanny. "He said he
only meant to let me know his hopes in coming here. And, oh, that's
the worst of it! He won't believe me, though I said more to him than
I thought I could have said to anybody! I told him," said Fanny,
with her hands clasped over her knee to still her trembling, "that I
cared for my dear, dear husband, and always shall--always--and then
he talked about waiting, just as if anybody could leave off loving