“I am happy to find, Sir Edward, you are so well pleased with the family as to wish to make another selection from it.  I sincerely hope it may prove as judicious as the former one.”

Sir Edward was a little at a loss to understand her meaning, although he thought it might allude to his son, who he had some time suspected had views on Grace Chatterton; and willing to know the truth, and rather pleased to find John had selected a young woman he loved in his heart, he observed—­

“I am not sure I rightly understand your ladyship, though I hope I do.”

“No!” cried the dowager, in well-counterfeited affectation of surprise.  “Perhaps, after all, maternal anxiety has deceived me, then.  Mr. Moseley could hardly have ventured to proceed without your approbation.”

“I have ever declined influencing any of my children, Lady Chatterton,” said the baronet, “and John is not ignorant of my sentiments.  I sincerely hope, however, you allude to an attachment to Grace?”

“I did certainly, Sir Edward,” said the lady, hesitatingly “I may be deceived; but you must understand the feelings of a mother, and a young woman ought not to be trifled with.”

“My son is incapable of trifling, I hope,” cried Sir Edward; with animation, “and, least of all, with Grace Chatterton No; you are quite right.  If he has made his choice, he should not be ashamed to avow it.”

“I would not wish, on any account, to hurry matters,” said the dowager; “but the report which is abroad will prevent other young men from putting in their claims, Sir Edward” (sighing).  “I have a mother’s feelings:  if I have been hasty, your goodness will overlook it.”  And Lady Chatterton placed her handkerchief to her eyes, to conceal the tears that did not flow.

Sir Edward thought all this very natural, and as it should be, and he sought an early conference with his son.

“John,” said the father, taking his hand kindly, “you have no reason to doubt my affection or my compliance to your wishes.  Fortune is a thing out of the question-with a young man of your expectations.”  And Sir Edward, in his eagerness to smoothe the way, went on:  “You can live here, or occupy my small seat in Wiltshire.  I can allow you five thousand a year, with much ease to myself.  Indeed, your mother and myself would both straighten ourselves, to add to your comforts; but it is unnecessary—­we have enough, and you have enough.”

Sir Edward, in a few moments, would have settled everything to the dowager’s perfect satisfaction, had not John interrupted him by the exclamation of—­

“To what do you allude, father?”

“Allude?” said Sir Edward, simply.  “Why, Grace Chatterton, my son.”

“Grace Chatterton!  Sir Edward.  What have I to do with Grace Chatterton?”

“Her mother has made me acquainted with your proposals, and”—­

“Proposals!”

“Attentions, I ought to have said; and you have no reason to apprehend anything from me, my child.”