‘Then it may chance you must look otherwhere for your one housekeeper,’ said Mrs. Golding.  ’What sayest, Althea?  Wilt be parted from thy sister that thou mayest have the honour of keeping house for so liberal a kinsman and master? or wilt go with Lucy and me to my farm, at West Fazeby, where you two shall be to me as daughters? for I am a childless widow, and will gladly cherish you young things.  The choice lies before you, Althea.’

Althea was now red as any rose; and the tears’ that had been in her eyes seemed turned to sparks of fire.  She rose from the table and made a deep curtsey to Mr. Dacre.

‘I am exceeding grateful for your preference of me,’ she said; ’but seeing I am only a young maid, and inexpert in the management of a house, I must beg to refuse your princely offer’—­she spoke with infinite scorn—­’and betake myself instead to the home Mrs. Golding will give me, where I may improve myself, and become fitter in time, both in years and skill, for some such post as you would now prefer me to.’  She stopped and panted, being quite out of breath.

Mr. Dacre did but lift his eyebrows again and say, ’As you will, madam,’ and then begged she would sit down and finish eating; but she remained standing, and looked pitifully at Mrs. Golding; on which our aunt rose also, and I doing the same,—­

‘You go to town to-day, I think you said?’ questioned Mrs. Golding; ’we will therefore take our leave of you now, not to importune you further.  My nieces and I will endeavour to be gone from here to-morrow, so please you to endure their presence in their father’s house until then; for you must think it will ask a few hours for them to remove their apparel and other goods.’

‘Assuredly, madam; they have full liberty,’ said Mr. Dacre, rising and bowing, and, for a wonder, looking a little abashed.

‘And I think it were well we lost no time,’ continued our aunt.

So we took our leave of him gladly enough, and I think he was full as glad to have us go; and we went back to the little parlour.

‘I guessed what sort of kindness John Dacre would show you,’ said our aunt, looking at us with a smile.  ’Your father, my sweet maidens, of whom you have a heavy loss indeed, was of a much nobler nature than this his kinsman; and it’s doubtless for that reason that one of them has thriven in the bad air where the other could not thrive, but perished;’ and then came tears into her lively black eyes, and she was fain to sit down and weep awhile, in which we bore her company.

Then Althea wiped her eyes, and said, with a trembling voice,—­

’I cannot think, however, why our cousin should make so strange a proffer to me—­one so unfitting for a well-taught maiden to accept.’

‘He made it that you might refuse it, child,’ said our aunt.  ’Now he can truly say he was willing to do somewhat for you, and that you would none of it, but thought scorn of his goodwill.  It hath ever been his way to get much credit for little goodness.  Well, Lucy, child, what art thinking of?’