Marie did not reply, only darted an angry glance at her sister, and then one full of scorn at Glen, who made a sign to Millet, one which the little fellow eagerly obeyed, going on with Clotilde, while Glen lingered behind with Marie. "I am not so blind or so foolish as not to see that you are displeased with my attentions to your sister," he said in a low voice, which made her thrill with pleasure, in spite of the jealous anger she felt. "Yes, you need not tell me," he continued, meeting her eyes. "But come, let us be friends--more, let us be like brother and sister, for, believe me, my feelings towards you are warmer than you think. I know that I am no worthy match for your sister, but if love can make up for poverty-- there, you will not be angry with me, for I want you to be my ally." Marie turned to him again to look scorn and anger, but as she met his eyes her resolution failed, and it was all she could do to keep from bursting into a passionate fit of sobbing. "He loves her," she sobbed to herself; "and he cannot see her, he cannot know her, as I do." The next moment she was upbraiding herself with her own unworthiness, while he was interpreting her silence into a more softened feeling towards him; and when they parted a few minutes later, and he pressed her hand, Marie felt that if he wished it she could become his slave, while somehow Glen did not feel quite satisfied with his idol. The sisters did not speak on their way back, while when they re-entered the Palace their aunts were loud in praise of the animation their walk had imparted to their countenances. "Such news, my dears!" cried Miss Philippa. "Such good news, my dears!" echoed Miss Isabella. "Mr Elbraham is coming down to-day," said Miss Philippa. "And he will drive Lord Henry Moorpark down in his phaeton." "Yes, my sweet darlings," said Miss Philippa affectionately. "I think, dears, I would sit quietly in the drawing-room all the morning." "And go up just before lunch to dress." "Yes, dears. Your new morning dresses have come home." "Oh, have they, aunt dear?" cried Clotilde. "Come upstairs, then, at once, Rie, and we'll try them on." Volume 2, Chapter VI. THE ANCHORITE IS CONSULTED AGAIN. "I wonder whether I shall ever have any children of my own," said John Huish; "and, if I do, whether I shall ever be so hard, cruel, and worldly to them as some people are. Money is very nice, and one would like to see one's young folks well off; but how a mother and father can deliberately match a beautiful, innocent young girl with some old fellow because he is rich and has a title, is something beyond my comprehension. Sixty and twenty! Oh, it is a disgrace to our boasted civilisation!"