CHAPTER XXIII
"Mrs. Douglas," said Lady Portmore, "I am going to take quite the privilege of an old friend with you, but I feel as if I had known you all my life, and I am going to say something very impertinent."
Mrs. Douglas nodded. It was apparently a nod of acquiescence in the latter proposition.
"That dear little Eliza of yours, I am charmed with her; I am indeed. I would not say so if I were not; but if you will take my advice, you will not allow Colonel Beaufort to be so much with her."
"I think it would be difficult to prevent it," said Mrs. Douglas, with an affection of carelessness. "Colonel Beaufort seems to be, like most men, very much in the habit of taking his own way."
"Yes, but, my dear Mrs. Douglas, I am so afraid your gay, innocent Eliza, who is not aware how encouraging her frank manner is, should fancy that Ernest's attentions mean more than they do: I know him so thoroughly. He is a dear, kind-hearted creature, but rather a dangerous man. He means nothing by it, but he always seems as if he were making love to every woman he speaks to."
"That may be rather tiresome, and is very wrong," said Mrs. Douglas; "but it cannot be very dangerous. Those seeming lovers never take anybody in."
"Eliza is so young," continued Lady Portmore, who was longing to bring the conversation round to herself, "and very little attention turns those young heads; and what made me wish to put you on your guard, Mrs. Douglas, is
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