The Lady Margaretta was her mother’s favourite, and she was like her mother in all things,—­except that her mother had been a beauty.  The world called her proud, disdainful, and even insolent; but the world was not aware that in all that she did she was acting in accordance with a principle which had called for much self-abnegation.  She had considered it her duty to be a de Courcy and an earl’s daughter at all times; and consequently she had sacrificed to her idea of duty all popularity, adulation, and such admiration as would have been awarded to her as a well-dressed, tall, fashionable, and by no means stupid young woman.  To be at all times in something higher than they who were manifestly below her in rank,—­that was the effort that she was ever making.  But she had been a good daughter, assisting her mother, as best she might, in all family troubles, and never repining at the cold, colourless, unlovely life which had been vouchsafed to her.

Alexandrina was the beauty of the family, and was in truth the youngest.  But even she was not very young, and was beginning to make her friends uneasy lest she, too, should let the precious season of hay-harvest run by without due use of her summer’s sun.  She had, perhaps, counted too much on her beauty, which had been beauty according to law rather than beauty according to taste, and had looked, probably, for too bounteous a harvest.  That her forehead, and nose, and cheeks, and chin were well-formed, no man could deny.  Her hair was soft and plentiful.  Her teeth were good, and her eyes were long and oval.  But the fault of her face was this,—­that when you left her you could not remember it.  After a first acquaintance you could meet her again and not know her.  After many meetings you would fail to carry away with you any portrait of her features.  But such as she had been at twenty, such was she now at thirty.  Years had not robbed her face of its regularity, or ruffled the smoothness of her too even forehead.  Rumour had declared that on more than one, or perhaps more than two occasions, Lady Alexandrina had been already induced to plight her troth in return for proffered love; but we all know that Rumour, when she takes to such topics, exaggerates the truth, and sets down much in malice.  The lady was once engaged, the engagement lasting for two years, and the engagement had been broken off, owing to some money difficulties between the gentlemen of the families.  Since that she had become somewhat querulous, and was supposed to be uneasy on that subject of her haymaking.  Her glass and her maid assured her that her sun shone still as brightly as ever; but her spirit was becoming weary with waiting, and she dreaded lest she should become a terror to all, as was her sister Rosina, or an object of interest to none, as was Margaretta.  It was from her especially that this message had been sent to our friend Crosbie; for, during the last spring in London, she and Crosbie had known each other well.  Yes, my gentle readers; it is true, as your heart suggests to you.  Under such circumstances Mr Crosbie should not have gone to Courcy Castle.