Odd, white dints came and went in Winston’s nostrils—­the one and unerring facial sign of displeasure he ever exhibited, if we except a certain hardening of eye and contour that chiselled his lineaments into a yet closer resemblance to marble.

“He is very sensitive and proud, I know,” faltered Mabel, hastily marking these, and understanding what they portended.

“You need not like him the less on that account, always provided that the supports of his pride are legitimate and substantial,” answered her brother, carelessly transferring to his tablets several names from a sheet of paper upon the table—­the addresses of persons to whom Frederic had referred him for confirmation of his statements regarding his social and professional standing.

“I hope, for your sake, Mabel,” he pursueds pocketing the memoranda, “that this affair may be speedily and agreeably adjusted; while I cannot deny that I deprecate the unseemly haste with which Mrs. Sutton and her ally have urged it on, in my absence.  Had they intended to court suspicion, they could not have done it more effectually.  You could not have had a more injudicious chaperone to the Springs.”

“Indeed, brother, she was not to blame,” began the generous girl, forgetting her embarrassment in zealous defence of the aunt she loved.  “It was not she who presented me to Mr. Chilton, and she has never attempted to bias my decision in any manner.”

“I have heard the history in detail.”  Had his breeding been less fine, he would have yawned in her face.  “I know that you are indebted for Mr. Chilton’s acquaintanceship to Miss Tazewell’s generosity.  But in strict justice, Mrs. Sutton should be held responsible for whatever unhappiness may arise from the intimacy.  You were left by myself in her charge.”

“I do not believe it will end unhappily,” Mabel was moved to reply, with spirit that became her better than the shyness she had heretofore displayed, or the submissive demeanor usual with her in tête-à-têtes with her guardian.

He smiled in calm superiority.

“I have expressed my hope to that effect.  Of expectations it will be time enough to speak when I am better informed upon divers points.  I am not one to take much for granted, am less sanguine than my romantic aunt, or even than my more practical sister.  Assuming, however, that all is as you would have it, your wish would be, I suppose, for an early marriage?”

“There has been little said about that,” responded Mabel, reddening—­then rallying to add smilingly—­“such an arrangement would have involved the taking for granted a good many things—­your consent among them.”

Winston passed over the addenda.

“But that little, especially when uttered by Mr. Chiiton, trenched upon the inexpediency of long engagements—­did it not?”

Mabel was mute, her eyes downcast.