And it is to ask him to come here.

My dear, you may safely leave me to act according to my own judgment.

But as to what Mrs.Graves has said, I don't believe a word of it." "I scarcely think I do," murmured Anne; a smile hovering on her troubled countenance, like sunshine after rain.
Anne had the taper alight, and the wax held to it, the note ready in her hand, when the room-door was thrown open by Mrs.Ashton's maid.
"Lord Hartledon." He came in in a hurried manner, talking fast, making too much fuss; it was unlike his usual quiet movements, and Mrs.Ashton noticed it.

As he shook hands with her, she held the note before him.
"See, Percival! I was writing to ask you to call upon me." Anne had put out the light, and her hand was in Lord Hartledon's before she well knew anything, save that her heart was beating tumultuously.
Mrs.Ashton made a place for him on the sofa, and Anne quietly left the room.
"I should have been here earlier," he began, "but I had the steward with me on business; it is little enough I have attended to since my brother's death.

Dear Mrs.Ashton! I grieve to hear this poor account of you.