Aunt Rebecca was so occupied with her dogs, squirrels, parrots, old women, and convicts, that her eyes being off the cards, she saw little of the game; and when a friendly whisper turned her thoughts that way, and it flashed upon her that tricks and honours were pretty far gone, she never remembered that she had herself to blame for the matter, but turned upon her poor niece with ‘Sly creature!’ and so forth.  And while owing to this inattention, Gertrude had lost the benefit of her sage Aunt Rebecca’s counsels altogether, her venerable but frisky old grandmother—­Madam Nature—­it was to be feared, might have profited by the occasion to giggle and whistle her own advice in her ear, and been indifferently well obeyed.  I really don’t pretend to say—­maybe there was nothing, or next to nothing in it; or if there was, Miss Gertrude herself might not quite know.  And if she did suspect she liked him, ever so little, she had no one but Lilias Walsingham to tell; and I don’t know that young ladies are always quite candid upon these points.  Some, at least, I believe, don’t make confidences until their secrets become insupportable.  However, Aunt Rebecca was now wide awake, and had trumpeted a pretty shrill reveiller.  And Gertrude had started up, her elbow on the pillow, and her large eyes open; and the dream, I suppose, was shivered and flown, and something rather ghastly at her side.

Coming out of church, Dr. Walsingham asked Mervyn to take a turn with him in the park—­and so they did—­and the doctor talked with him seriously and kindly on that broad plateau.  The young man walked darkly beside him, and they often stopped outright.  When, on their return, they came near the Chapelizod gate, and Parson’s lodge, and the duck-pond, the doctor was telling him that marriage is an affair of the heart—­also a spiritual union—­and, moreover, a mercantile partnership—­and he insisted much upon this latter view—­and told him what and how strict was the practice of the ancient Jews, the people of God, upon this particular point.  Dr. Walsingham had made a love-match, was the most imprudent and open-handed of men, and always preaching to others against his own besetting sin.  To hear him talk, indeed, you would have supposed he was a usurer.  Then Mr. Mervyn, who looked a little pale and excited, turned the doctor about, and they made another little circuit, while he entered somewhat into his affairs and prospects, and told him something about an appointment in connexion with the Embassy at Paris, and said he would ask him to read some letters about it; and the doctor seemed a little shaken; and so they parted in a very friendly but grave way.

When Mervyn had turned his back upon Belmont, on the occasion of the unpleasant little visit I mentioned just now, the ladies had some words in the drawing-room.

‘I have not coquetted, Madam,’ said Miss Gertrude, haughtily.

’Then I’m to presume you’ve been serious; and I take the liberty to ask how far this affair has proceeded?’ said Aunt Rebecca, firmly, and laying her gloved hand and folded fan calmly on the table.