When Mary Selby and her sister Susan arrived at the Rectory of St. Euphrase, next morning, the family mind was already excited by other news; so much so, that, notwithstanding this was the first visit Judith's sisters had ever paid, and it was unexpected, they were received precisely as if they had dropped in from the next street, and their coming were an every-day occurrence. The family capacity for surprise had been forestalled. "Only think!" cried Betsey, the irrepressible; "young Jordan has been here--Randolph, you know. _I_ know him quite well; was at a party at their house, when I stayed with you last winter--knew him a little, before then, but not much. Well, he tells Uncle Dionysius here--that's not here, exactly, but in the study--that he ran away with Miss Rouget, the seignior's daughter. Stuck-up looking thing she is. No complexion to speak of; a snub nose. Yes, indeed, Aunt Judy, it is a snub. _Nez retroussé_, is it? That's because she's Miss Rouget de La Hache, and a kind of a somebody; though folks do say they've lost their money all the same--like better folks who make less moan. But, anyhow, Randolph ran away with her--fixed a fire-escape on to her bedroom window, and down she came, bag and baggage, in the dead of the night; and everybody in the house fast asleep. They went to New York, and were married before a squire, and now they have come home, and are staying with Mrs. Jordan, at The Willows. And they are going to be married all over again, from the beginning--twice over again, I should say, for he has just been speaking to Uncle Dionysius, and now he has gone to the Roman Catholic priest, with a letter from an archbishop, and no less, bidding him raise no difficulties, but just do it. Think of that! Is it not impressive? The same two people to be three times married, and always to one another! I suppose there will be no getting out of that, anyhow, as long as they live. If even they were to go to Chicago, I suppose it would take three divorce suits to separate them. They can only dissolve one marriage at a time, so I have heard. What do _you_ think. Miss Susan?" "I never was married, my dear. I have suffered too much from neuralgia for some years back to be able to think of marrying, or anything else." "Well! That's not me, now. If I was to have neuralgy, I'd want a man to take care of me, all the more, 'pears to me. I'm 'takin' steps,' as uncle there says, to get the man right off; and then the neuralgy may come if it wants to, I can't help it." Both visitors' eyes were fixed on the speaker. The recollections of their own youth furnished no such amazing expression of maidenly opinion. Betsey coloured a little, coughed, and began once more, while her uncle and aunt, taught by experience, sat silent, waiting till she should talk herself out of breath.