‘I don’t know what you mean by its being all over, mamma,’ said Camilla.  ‘As far as I can understand, it has never been begun.’

‘My dear, the least said the soonest mended,’ said Mrs French.

‘That’s of course, mamma,’ said Camilla; ’but yet one can’t hold one’s tongue altogether.  All the city is talking about it, and I dare say Mr Burgess has heard as much as anybody else.’

‘I’ve heard nothing at all,’ said Brooke.

‘Oh yes, you have,’ continued Camilla.  Arabella conceived herself at this moment to be situated in so delicate a position, that it was best that her sister should talk about it, and that she herself should hold her tongue with the exception, perhaps, of a hint here and there which might be of assistance; for Arabella completely understood that the prize was now to be hers, if the prize could be rescued out of the Stanbury clutches.  She was aware, no one better aware, how her sister had interfered with her early hopes, and was sure, in her own mind, that all her disappointment had come from fratricidal rivalry on the part of Camilla.  It had never, however, been open to her to quarrel with Camilla.  There they were, linked together, and together they must fight their battles.  As two pigs may be seen at the same trough, each striving to take the delicacies of the banquet from the other, and yet enjoying always the warmth of the same dunghill in amicable contiguity, so had these young ladies lived in sisterly friendship, while each was striving to take a husband from the other.  They had understood the position, and, though for years back they had talked about Mr Gibson, they had never quarrelled; but now, in these latter days of the Stanbury interference, there had come tacitly to be something of an understanding between them that, if any fighting were still possible on the subject, one must be put forward and the other must yield.  There had been no spoken agreement, but Arabella quite understood that she was to be put forward.  It was for her to take up the running, and to win, if possible, against the Stanbury filly.  That was her view, and she was inclined to give Camilla credit for acting in accordance with it with honesty and zeal.  She felt, therefore, that her words on the present occasion ought to be few.  She sat back in her corner of the sofa, and was intent on her work, and shewed by the pensiveness of her brow that there were thoughts within her bosom of which she was not disposed to speak.  ‘You must have heard a great deal,’ said Carnilla, laughing.  ’You must know how poor Mr Gibson has been abused, because he wouldn’t—­’

‘Camilla, don’t be foolish,’ said Mrs French.

‘Because he wouldn’t what?’ asked Brooke.  ’What ought he to have done that he didn’t do?’

‘I don’t know anything about ought,’ said Camilla.  ’That’s a matter of taste altogether.’

‘I’m the worst hand in the world at a riddle,’ said Brooke.

‘How sly you are,’ continued Camilla, laughing; ’as if dear Aunt Stanbury hadn’t confided all her hopes to you.’