Also a rapid thought crossed her mind, bringing with it a deadly trouble.  “If Josephine was her stepmother, would Major Harrowby be her stepfather?” They were brother and sister, and she had an idea that the family followed the relations of its members.  She did not know why, but she would rather not have Major Harrowby for her stepfather or for any relation by law.  She preferred that he should be wholly unconnected with her—­just her friend unrelated:  that was all.

“Thank you, dear Leam!” said Josephine gratefully; and Leam, looking at her with large mournful eyes, said in a soft but surprised tone of voice, “Thank me!—­why?”

“That you accept me as your stepmother so sweetly, and do not hate me for it,” said Josephine.

Leam glanced with a pained look at Fina.  “I have done with hate,” she answered.  “It is not my business what papa likes to do.”

“Sensible at last!” cried Mr. Dundas with a half-mocking, half-kindly triumph in his voice.

Leam turned pale.  “But you must not think that I forget mamma as you do,” she said with emphasis, her lip quivering.

“No, dear Leam, I would be the last to wish that you should forget your own mamma for me,” said Josephine humbly.  “Only try to love me a little for myself, as your friend, and I will be satisfied.  Love always your own mamma, but me too a little.”

“You are good,” said Leam softly, her eyes filling with tears.  “I do like you very much; but mamma—­there is only one mother for me.  None of papa’s wives could ever be mamma to me.”

“But friend?” said Josephine, half sobbing.

“Friend? yes,” returned Leam; and for the first time in her life she bent her proud little head and kissed Josephine on her cheek.  “And I will be good to you,” she said quietly, “for you are good.”  She did not add, “And Edgar’s sister.”

The families approved of this marriage.  Every one said it was what ought to have been when Pepita died, and that Mr. Dundas had missed his way and lost his time by taking that doubtful madame meanwhile.  Adelaide and her mother were especially congratulatory; but, though the rector said he was glad for the sake of poor Josephine, who had always been a favorite of his, yet he could not find terms of too great severity for Sebastian.  For a man to marry three times—­it was scarcely moral; and he wondered at the Harrowbys for allowing one of their own to be the third venture.  And then, though Josephine was a good girl enough, she was but a weak sister at the best; and to think of any man in his senses taking her as the successor of that delightful and superior madame!

Mrs. Birkett dissented from these views, and said it would keep the house together and be such a nice thing for Fina and Leam:  both would be the better for a woman’s influence and superintendence, and Josephine was very good.

“Yes,” said the rector with his martial air—­“good enough, I admit, but confoundedly slow.”