“The Manor House?” he said.  “That is the original nucleus of the property which had hitherto gone to the heir male?”

“So my sister told me,” said Aurelia.

“That letter, which Dr. Godfrey read to me, spoke of my poor brother’s discomfort in holding it.  It is well if thus tardily she refund it, though not as your price, my poor child.  It should have been as matter of justice, if not by her husband’s dying wish.  So this is the alternative set before you!  Has it been set before your father likewise?”

“Almost certainly she will have threatened to dismiss him if he do not consent.  It was that which made my sister decide on sending me here, or what would become of him and Eugene?  But I should think my Lady knew my father better than to seem to offer any kind of price, as you call it, for me.”

“Precisely.  You have heard from this maternal sister of yours?  Does he then give his consent?”

“They say they will not have my inclinations forced, and that they had rather undergo anything than that I should be driven to—­to—­”

“To be as much a sacrifice as Iphigenia,” he concluded the sentence.

“Indeed, sir,” said Aurelia, quite restored, “I cannot see why they should imagine me to have such objections, or want me to be so cautious and considerate.  I shall write to my papa that it is not at all repugnant to me, for that you are very, very good to me; and if I can make your time pass ever so little more pleasantly, it is a delight to me.  I am sure I shall like you better than if—–­”

“Stay, stay, child,” he said, half laughing; “remember, it is as a father that I ask you to love and trust the old recluse.”

She thought she had been forward, crimsoned in the dark, and retired into her shell for the rest of the evening.  She was glad when with his usual tact, Mr. Belamour begged for the recitation he knew she could make with the least effort of memory.

At the end, however, she ventured to ask—­“Sir, shall I be permitted ever to see my father and sister?”

“Certainly, my child.  In due time I hope you will enjoy full liberty, though you may have to wait for it.”

Aurelia durst not ask what was in her mind, whether they would not come to the wedding, but that one great hope began to outweigh all the strange future.  She began to say something about being too young, ignorant, and foolish for him, but this was kindly set aside, she hardly knew how.  Mr. Belamour himself suggested the formula in which she might send her consent to Lady Belamour, begging at the same time to retain the company of the little Misses Wayland.  To her father she wrote such a letter as might satisfy all doubts as to the absence of all repugnance to the match, and though the Major had sacrificed all to love and honour himself, mariages de convenance were still so much the rule, and wives, bestowed in all passiveness with unawakened hearts, so often proved loving and happy matrons, that it would have been held unreasonable to demand more than absence of dislike on the part of the bride.