“I deny the New Year, Lavinia.  I said early in January.”

“You will have your way, Joseph!  We were walking in the shrubbery at the time.  I had our dear girl’s arm in mine, and I felt it tremble.  She suddenly stopped.  ‘Oh,’ she said, ‘not so soon!’ I said, ’My dear, consider Richard!’ She turned to her father.  She said, ’Don’t, pray don’t press it so soon, papa!  I respect Richard; I like Richard as your true and faithful friend; but I don’t love him as I ought to love him if I am to be his wife.’  Imagine her talking in that way!  What could she possibly know about it?  Of course we both laughed—­”

“you laughed, Lavinia.”

“you laughed, Joseph.”

“Get on, for God’s sake!” cried Turlington, striking his hand passionately on the table by which he was sitting.  “Don’t madden me by contradicting each other!  Did she give way or not?”

Miss Lavinia turned to her brother.  “Contradicting each other, Joseph!” she exclaimed, lifting her hands in blank amazement.

“Contradicting each other!” repeated Sir Joseph, equally astonished on his side.  “My dear Richard, what can you be thinking of?  I contradict my sister!  We never disagreed in our lives.”

“I contradict my brother!  We have never had a cross word between us from the time when we were children.”

Turlington internally cursed his own irritable temper.

“I beg your pardon—­both of you,” he said.  “I didn’t know what I was saying.  Make some allowance for me.  All my hopes in life are centered in Natalie; and you have just told me (in her own words, Miss Lavinia) that she doesn’t love.  You don’t mean any harm, I dare say; but you cut me to the heart.”

This confession, and the look that accompanied it, touched the ready sympathies of the two old people in the right place.  The remainder of the story dropped between them by common consent.  They vied with each other in saying the comforting words which would allay their dear Richard’s anxiety.  How little he knew of young girls.  How could he be so foolish, poor fellow! as to attach any serious importance to what Natalie had said?  As if a young creature in her teens knew the state of her own heart!  Protestations and entreaties were matters of course, in such cases.  Tears even might be confidently expected from a right-minded girl.  It had all ended exactly as Richard would have wished it to end.  Sir Joseph had said, “My child! this is a matter of experience; love will come when you are married.”  And Miss Lavinia had added, “Dear Natalie, if you remembered your poor mother as I remember her, you would know that your father’s experience is to be relied on.”  In that way they had put it to her; and she had hung her head and had given—­all that maiden modesty could be expected to give—­a silent consent.  “The wedding-day was fixed for the first week in the New Year.” ("No, Joseph; not January—­the New Year.”) “And God bless you, Richard! and may your married life be a long and happy one.”