“That she is,” said Mrs. Bassett. “Her father has no more power over her than I have.” “Oh, mamma! am I a disobedient girl, then?” “No, no. Only in this one thing, I see you will go your own way.” Lady Bassett put in her word. “Well, but this one thing is the happiness or misery of her whole life. I cannot blame her for looking well before she leaps.” A grateful look from Ruperta's glorious eyes repaid the speaker. “But,” said Lady Bassett, tenderly, “it is something to have two mothers when you marry, instead of one; and you would have two, my love; I would try and live for you.” This touched Ruperta to the heart; she curled round Lady Bassett's neck, and they kissed each other like mother and daughter. “This is too great a temptation,” said Ruperta. “Yes; I _will_ engage myself to Cousin Compton, if papa's consent can be obtained. Without his consent I could not marry any one.” “Nobody can obtain it, if you cannot,” said Mrs. Bassett. Ruperta shook her head. “Mark my words, mamma, it will take me years to gain it. Papa is as obstinate as a mule. To be sure, I am as obstinate as fifty.” “It shall not take years, nor yet months,” said Lady Bassett. “I know _Mr. Bassett's_ objection, and I will remove it, cost me what it may.” This speech surprised the other two ladies so, they made no reply. Said Lady Bassett firmly, “Do you pledge yourself to me, if I can obtain Mr. Bassett's consent?” “I do,” said Ruperta. “But--” “You think my power with your father must be smaller than yours. I hope to show you you are mistaken.” The ladies rose to go: Lady Bassett took leave of them thus: “Good-by, my most valued friend, and sister in sorrow; good-by, my dear daughter.” At the gate of Huntercombe, whom should they meet but Compton Bassett, looking very pale and unhappy. He was upon honor not to speak to Ruperta; but he gazed on her with a wistful and terrified look that was very touching. She gave him a soft pitying smile in return, that drove him almost wild with hope. That night Richard Bassett sat in his chair, gloomy. When his wife and daughter spoke to him in their soft accents, he returned short, surly answers. Evidently a storm was brewing. At last it burst. He had heard of Ruperta's repeated visits to Huntercombe Hall. “You are not dealing fairly with me, you two,” said he. “I allowed you to go once to see a woman that says she is very ill; but I warned you she was the cunningest woman in creation, and would make a fool of you both; and now I find you are always going. This will not do. She is netting two simple birds that I have the care of. Now, listen to me; I forbid you two ever to set foot in that house again. Do you hear me?” “We hear you, papa,” said Mrs. Bassett, quietly; “we must be deaf, if we did not.” Ruperta kept her countenance with difficulty. “It is not a request, it is a command.” Mrs. Bassett for once in her life fired up. “And a most tyrannical one,” said she.