"I want to know how he has been enabled to show now," said Amethyst, with icy coldness. And then, after a pause--"Did Sir Richard Grattan lend him the money?" "Well, yes--he did, my dear. He did a great deal for him. The money was nothing to him, you know, and your father was really gratified." "And what else has he done for us?" pursued Amethyst. "Well--he bought the farms near Haredale. Of course, Amethyst, even with the help of Carrie's guardians, your father couldn't have taken this house, unless he had found a good purchaser. Sir Richard did it in the most delicate way--" "But if Sir Richard wanted to marry me, I should have thought giving me a season in town did not improve his chances." "Why, Amethyst--anyhow you would have gone out with Lady Molyneux. And now, he has had every opportunity. And he improves so _much_ on acquaintance. When you make him happy, he will never think of the trifling obligation. Of course, I suppose the matter is now settled; but he was very anxious that you should feel perfectly free." "And all this has been done for the honour of the family. I've heard my lady say, that if people had a shady sort of record, it was much better to own it and take the consequences. I think I agree with her. One other thing. Did Mr Carisbrooke make this arrangement about Carrie and Charles?" "Well, no--but he expressed a great desire that she should join your party. And I don't know why you speak like this, Amethyst, I never knew you take such a tone before." "I never heard you take such a tone in Silverfold, Aunt Annabel." "Ah, my dear child, Silverfold days were very happy ones. But you are young, and you can't realise what family ruin is. You often think things bad for the girls, but they might be far worse. Last spring it was very nearly a case of going to live on the continent--cheap. Now just think of that with you four girls. What would there be for either of your parents but the gaming table, my dear child? And nothing left of mine for you to fall back upon. And the Haredales are not long-lived; if your father died, what _would_ become of you all? Now, when you are well married--Amethyst, of course there's a great deal I don't like, but I really do think that there's nothing, not absolutely criminal, that it's not a woman's duty to do to save her family from such a dreadful fate. Oh, my dear, you can't remember your uncles Percy and Tom, but never shall I forget the details that came out at their deaths, nor seeing poor Percy once abroad. My dear, when one is young and hard, one may think it serves one's brother right, but one's nephew--oh no, my dear. And Charles would be kind to a woman who liked him." "And it was for the good of the family that my half-sister was made to marry a man she hated? I don't think it answered in that case."