So said old Miss Harwood when the dreadful intelligence was first communicated to her. The two old sisters, who were both charitable old souls, and liked to think the best of everybody, were equally distressed about this piece of village scandal. “I don’t say anything about her poor husband—he was a fool to trust so much to a woman of her age,” said Miss Amelia; “but in my opinion Mary Clifford has sense to know when she’s well off.” The very idea made the sisters angry: a woman with five thousand a-year, with five fine children, with the handsomest house and most perfect little establishment within twenty miles of Summerhayes; a widow, with nobody to cross or contradict her, with her own way and will to her heart’s content—young enough to be still admired and paid attention to, and old enough to indulge in those female pleasures without any harm coming of it; to think of a woman in such exceptionally blessed circumstances stooping her head under the yoke, and yielding a second time to the subjection of marriage, was more than either of the Miss Harwoods could believe. “But I believe it’s quite true—indeed, I _know_ it’s quite true,” said the curate’s little wife. “Mr Spencer heard it first from the Miss Summerhayes, who did not know what to think—their own brother, you know; and yet they couldn’t forget that poor dear Mr Clifford was their cousin; and then they are neither of them married themselves, poor dears, which makes them harder upon her.” “We have never been married,” said Miss Amelia; “I don’t see what difference that makes. It is amusing to see the airs you little creatures give yourselves on the strength of being married. I suppose _you_ think it’s all right—it’s a compliment to her first husband, eh? and shows she was happy with him?—that’s what the men say when they take a second wife; that’s how you would do I suppose, if——” “Oh, Miss Amelia, don’t be so cruel,” cried the little wife. “I should die. Do you think I could ever endure to live without Julius? I don’t understand what people’s hearts are made of that can do such things: but then,” added the little woman, wiping her bright eyes, “Mr Clifford was not like my husband. He was very good, I daresay, and all that—but he wasn’t ——. Well, I don’t think he was a taking man. He used to sit such a long time after dinner. He used to——it’s very wicked to be unkind to the dead—but he wasn’t the sort of man a woman could break her heart for, you know.” “I should like to know who is,” said Miss Amelia. “He left her everything, without making provision for one of the children. He gave her the entire power, like a fool, at her age. He did not deserve anything better; but it appears to me that Mary Clifford has the sense to know when she’s well off.”