It was the end of September when I went up to Hyde Park Gate to tell my wonderful piece of news to Aunt Philippa and Jill.  Jill was very naughty at first, and declared that she should forbid the banns; her dear Ursula should not marry that ugly man.  But she changed her opinion after a long conversation with Giles, and then her enthusiasm knew no bounds.  It was amusing to see the admiring awe with which Aunt Philippa looked at me.  My engagement had raised her opinion of me a hundredfold.  I was no longer the plain eccentric Ursula in her eyes; the future Mrs. Hamilton was a person of far greater consequence.

I could see that her surprise could scarcely be concealed.  I used to notice her eyes fixed on me sometimes in a wondering way.  She told Lesbia that she could hardly understand such brilliant prospects for dear Ursula.  I had not Sara’s good looks; and yet I was marrying a far richer man than Colonel Ferguson.

‘I think Mr. Hamilton a very distinguished man, my dear,’ she continued, much to Lesbia’s amusement.  ’He is peculiar-looking, certainly, and a little too dark for my taste; but his manners are charming, and he is certainly very much in love with Ursula.  She looks very nice, and is very much improved; but still, one hardly expected such a match for her.’

Lesbia retailed this little speech with much gusto.  Dear Aunt Philippa! she certainly did her duty by me then:  nothing could exceed her kindness and motherliness.  And Sara came very often, looking the prettiest and happiest young matron in the world, and almost overwhelmed me with advice and petting.

They had come to the conclusion that my position was a somewhat awkward one, and that it would not do for me to go on living at the White Cottage.  They wanted me to give up my work at Heathfield until after my marriage; and at last Aunt Philippa conceived the brilliant idea of taking a house at Brighton for the winter.

‘You have never liked Hyde Park Gate, Ursula,’ she said, very kindly; ’and we shall all be glad to escape London fogs this year:  your uncle will not mind the expense, and I think the plan will suit admirably.  Heathfield is only twenty minutes from Brighton, and Mr. Hamilton will be able to visit you far more comfortably, and you can sleep a night or two at Sara’s when you want to go up to London to get your trousseau.’

I thanked Aunt Philippa warmly for her kind thought, and then I wrote to Giles, and asked his opinion.  I found that he entirely agreed with Aunt Philippa.

‘I think it an excellent plan, dear,’ he wrote; ’and you must thank your good aunt for her consideration for us both.  I shall see you far oftener at Brighton than at the White Cottage.  Miss Prudence will be less active there:  I shall be allowed to enjoy a reasonable conversation without the speech—­“Oh, do please go away now, Giles; you have been here nearly an hour”—­that invariably closed our cottage interviews.’  I could see Giles was really pleased with Aunt Philippa’s proposition, so I promised to go back to Heathfield and settle my affairs, and join them directly the house in Brunswick Place was ready; and by the middle of October we were all settled comfortably for the winter.