The novice held herself apparently all open with a sweet smile, the eye being the only weapon that showed point.

“My love, your uncle and I, who were not always just to one another, have been united by our love for you.”

“So I observed as I came in—­ahem!”

“Henceforth we are one where your welfare is concerned, and we have something serious to say to you now.  There is a report, dearest, creeping about that you have formed an unfortunate attachment—­to a person beneath you.”

“Who told you that, aunt?  Name, as they say in the House.”

“No matter; these things are commonly said without foundation in this wicked world; but, still, it is always worth our while to prove them false, not, of course, directly—­’qui s’excuse s’accuse’—­but indirectly.”

“I agree with you, and I shall do so in my uncle’s presence.  You were present, aunt—­though uninvited—­when the gentleman you allude to offered me what I consider a great honor, and you heard me decline it; you are therefore fully able to contradict that report, whose source, by the by, you have not given me, and of course you will contradict it.”

Mrs. Bazalgette colored a little.  But she said affectionately:  “These silly rumors are best contradicted by a good marriage, love, and that brings me to something more important.  We have two proposals for you, and both of them excellent ones.  Now, in a matter where your happiness is at stake, your uncle and I are determined not to let our private partialities speak.  We do press you to select one of these offers, but leave you quite free as to which you take.  Mr. Talboys is a gentleman of old family and large estates.  Mr. Hardie is a wealthy, and able, and rising man.  They are both attached to you; both excellent matches.

“Whichever you choose your uncle and I shall both feel that an excellent position for life is yours, and no regret that you did not choose our especial favorite shall stain our joy or our love.”  With this generous sentiment tears welled from her eyes, whereat Fountain worshiped her and felt his littleness.

But Lucy was of her own sex, and had observed what an unlimited command of eye-water an hysterical female possesses.  She merely bowed her head graciously, and smiled politely.  Thus encouraged to proceed, her aunt dried her eyes with a smile, and with genial cheerfulness proceeded:  “Well, then, dear, which shall it be—­Mr. Talboys?”

Lucy opened her eyes so innocently.  “My dear aunt, I wonder at that question from you.  Did you not make me promise you I would never marry that gentleman, nor any friend of my uncle’s?”

“And did you?” cried Fountain.

“I did,” replied the penitent, hanging her head.  “My aunt was so kind to me about something or other, I forget what.”

Fountain bounced up and paced the room.

Mrs. Bazalgette lowered her voice:  “It is to be Mr. Hardie, then?”