Mrs. Bazalgette is allowed by both sexes to be the most delightful, amiable woman in the county, and will carry that reputation to her grave.  Fountain is “the jolliest old buck ever went on two legs.”  I myself would rather meet twelve such agreeable humbugs—­six of a sex—­at dinner than the twelve apostles, and so would you, though you don’t know it.  These two, then, had long ere this found each other mighty agreeable.  The woman saw the man’s vanity, and flattered it.  The man the woman’s, and flattered it.  Neither saw—­am I to say?—­his own or her own, or what?  Hang language!!!  In short, they had long ago oiled one another’s asperities, and their intercourse was smooth and frequent:  they were always chatting together—­strewing flowers of speech over their mines and countermines.

Mr. Fountain, then, who, in virtue of his sex, had the less patience, broke ground.

“My dear Mrs. Bazalgette, I would not have missed this visit for a thousand pounds.  Certainly there is nothing like contact for rubbing off prejudices.  I little thought, when I first came here, the principal attraction of the place would prove to be my fair hostess.”

“I know you were prejudiced, my dear Mr. Fountain.  I can’t say I ever had any against you, but certainly I did not know half your good qualities.  However, your courtesy to me when I invaded you at Font Abbey prepared me for your real character; and now this visit, I trust, makes us friends.”

“Ah! my dear Mrs. Bazalgette, one thing only is wanting to make you my benefactor as well as friend—­if I could only persuade you to withdraw your powerful opposition to a poor old fellow’s dream.”

“What poor old fellow?”

“Me.”

“You? why, you are not so very old.  You are not above fifty.”

“Ah! fair lady, you must not evade me.  Come, can nothing soften you?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Fountain”; and the mellifluous tones dried suddenly.

“You are too sagacious not to know everything; you know my heart is set on marrying my niece to a man of ancient family.”

“With all my heart.  You have only to use your influence with her.  If she consents, I will not oppose.”

“You cruel little lady, you know it is not enough to withdraw opposition; I can’t succeed without your kind aid and support.”

“Now, Mr. Fountain, I am a great coward, but, really, I could almost venture to scold you a little.  Is not a poor little woman to be allowed to set her heart on things as well as a poor old gentleman who does not look fifty?  You know my poor little heart is bent on her marrying into our own set, yet you can ask me to influence her the other way—­me, who have never once said a word to her for my own favorites!  No; the fairest, kindest, and best way is to leave her to select her own happiness.”

“A fine thing it would be if young people were left to marry who they like,” retorted Fountain.  “My dear lady, I would never have asked your aid so long as there was the least chance of her marrying Mr. Hardie; but, now that she has of her own accord declined him—­”