They were obliged to tell Sophy of the state of things.  She stood up straight, and said, slowly and clearly, ’I do not like the world at all.’

‘I don’t quite see what you mean.’

‘Every one does what can’t be helped, and it is not the thing.’

‘Explain yourself, Sophy,’ said her father, amused.

‘I don’t think Lucy ought to be making the decision at all,’ said Sophy.  She did that long ago, when first, she attended to what he said to her.  If she does not take him now, it will be swearing to her neighbour, and disappointing him, because it is to her own hindrance.’

’Yes, Sophy; but I believe it is better to incur the sin of breaking a promise, than to go on when the fulfilment involves not only suffering, but mischief.  Lucy has repeatedly declared there was no engagement.’

’I know it could not be helped; but Mr. Dusautoy ought not to have asked papa.’

‘Nor papa to have consented, my Suleiman ben Daood,’ said Mr. Kendal.  ’Ah!  Sophy, we all have very clear, straightforward views at eighteen of what other people ought to do.’

’Papa—­I never meant—­I did not think I was saying anything wrong.  I only said I did not like the world.’

’And I heartily agree with you, Sophy, and if I had lived in it as short a time as you have, perhaps “considerations” would not affect my judgment.’

’I am always telling Sophy she will be more merciful as she grows older,’ said Albinia.

‘If it were only being more merciful, it would be very well,’ said Mr. Kendal; ’but one also becomes less thorough-going, because practice is more painful than theory, and one remembers consequences that have made themselves felt.  It is just as well that there should be young people to put us in mind what our flights once were.’

Albinia and Sophy left Lucy to herself; they both wished to avoid the useless ‘What shall I do?’ and they thought that, driven back on her own resources, even her own mind might give her better counsel than the seven watchmen aloft in a high tower.

She came down looking exceedingly pale.  Mr. Kendal regarded her anxiously, and held his hand out to her kindly.

‘Papa,’ she said, simply, ‘I can’t give it up.  I do love him.’

‘Very well, my dear,’ he answered, ’there is no more to be said than that I trust he will merit your affection and make you happy.’

Good Mr. Dusautoy was as happy as a king; he took Lucy in his arms, and kissed her as if she had been his child, and with her hands folded in his own, he told her how she was to teach his dear Algernon to be everything that was good, and to lead him right by her influence.  She answered with caresses and promises, and whoever had watched her eye, would have seen it in a happy day-dream of Algernon’s perfection, and his uncle thanking her for it.