“Military frivolity cannot hope,” returned Alick, with a shake of his head, and a calm matter-of-fact acquiescent tone.

“Ah, poor Alick,” pursued his sister, “you always were a discreet youth; but to be connected with such a union of learning, social science, and homeaopathy, soared beyond my utmost ambition.  I suppose the wedding tour—­supposing the happy event to take place—­ will be through a series of model schools and hospitals, ending in Hanwell.”

“No,” said Alick, equally coolly, “to the Dutch reformatory, and the Swiss cretin asylum.”

She was exceedingly tickled at his readiness, and proceeded in a pretended sentimental tone, “I am glad you have revealed the secrets of your breast.  I saw there was a powerful attraction and that you were no longer your own, but my views were humbler.  I thought the profound respect with which you breathed the name of Avonmouth, was due to the revival of the old predilection for our sweet little—­”

“Hush, Bessie,” said her brother, roused for the first time into sternness, “this is more than nonsense.  One word more of this, and you will cut me off from my greatest rest and pleasure.”

“From the lawn where croquet waits his approbation,” was on Bessie’s tongue, but she did not say it.  There were moments when she stood in fear of her brother.  He paused, and as if perceiving that his vehemence was in itself suspicious, added, “Remember, I never met her from seven years old till after her marriage.  She has been the kindest of friends in right of our fathers’ old friendship.  You know how her mother nursed me, and the sister she was to me.  And Bessie, if your selfishness—­I wish I could call it thoughtlessness—­involves her innocent simplicity in any scrape, derogatory to what is becoming her situation, I shall find it very hard to forgive you, and harder still to forgive myself for letting you come here.”

Bessie pouted for a moment, but her sweetness and good humour were never away.  “There, you have given your wicked little sister a screed,” she said, looking insinuatingly up at him.  “Just as if I did not think her a darling, and would not for the world do anything to spoil her.  Have not I been leading the most exemplary life, talking systems and visiting cottages with Rachel and playing with the boys, and singing with the clergyman; and here am I pounced on, as if I were come to be the serpent in this anti-croquet paradise.”

“Only a warning, Bessie.”

“You’ll be better now you have had it out.  I’ve seen you suppressing it all this time, for fear of frightening me away.”