“You shall marry us, parson—­and this very day, by thunder!”

These words came to Mrs. Willoughby’s ears in the midst of her first joy at meeting her sister, and shocked her inexpressibly.

“What’s that, Minnie darling?” she asked, anxiously.  “What is it?  Did you hear what that dreadful—­what the—­the Baron said?”

Minnie looked sweetly conscious, but said nothing.

“What does he mean?” asked her sister again.

“I suppose he means what he says,” replied Minnie, with a timid air, stealing a shy look at the Baron.

“Oh dear!” said Mrs. Willoughby; “there’s another dreadful trouble, I know.  It’s very, very hard—­”

“Well, I’m sure,” said Minnie, “I can’t help it.  They all do so.  That clergyman came and saved me, and he wasn’t a Roman Catholic clergyman at all, and he proposed—­”

“Proposed!” cried Mrs. Willoughby, aghast.

“Oh yes,” said Minnie, solemnly; “and I had hard work preventing him.  But, really, it was too absurd, and I would not let him be too explicit.  But I didn’t hurt his feelings.  Well, you know, then all of a sudden, as we were sitting there, the bugle sounded, and we came back.  Well, then, Rufus K. Gunn came—­and you know how very violent he is in his way—­and he said he saved my life again, and so he proposed.”

“He proposed!  Why, he had proposed before.”

“Oh yes; but that was for an engagement, and this was for our marriage.”  “Marriage!”

“Oh yes; and, you see, he had actually saved my life twice, and he was very urgent, and he is so awfully affectionate, and so—­”

“Well, what?” cried Mrs. Willoughby, seeing Minnie hesitate.

“Why, he—­”

“Well?”

“I mean, I—­”

“You what?  Really, Minnie dearest, you might tell me, and not keep me in such dreadful suspense.”

“Why, what could I say?”

“But what did you say?”

“Why, I think I—­said—­yes,” said Minnie, casting down her eyes with indescribable sweetness, shyness, meekness, and resignation.  Mrs. Willoughby actually shuddered.

“Now, Kitty,” exclaimed Minnie, who at once noticed it, “you needn’t be so horrid.  I’m sure you can’t say any thing against him now.  You needn’t look so.  You always hated him.  You never would treat him kindly.”

“But this—­this marriage.  It’s too shocking.”

“Well, he saved my life.”

“And to-day!  How utterly preposterous!  It’s shameful!”

“Well, I’m sure I can’t help it.”

“It’s too horrid!” continued Mrs. Willoughby, in an excited tone.  “It will break poor papa’s heart.  And it will break poor darling aunty’s heart.  And it will break my heart.”

“Now, Kitty dearest, this is too silly in you.  If it hadn’t been for him, I would now be married to that wretched Count, who hadn’t sufficient affection for me to get me a chair to sit on, and who was very, very rude to you.  You didn’t care, though, whether I was married to him or not; and now when I am saved from him you have nothing but very unpleasant things to say about Rufus K. Gunn.”