‘There is one other thing that I feel I must mention to you, which makes me very glad to be leaving here. About six months ago, Mr. Mowbray—you know, he is the rector of the next parish; the Hon. and Rev. Percy Mowbray—proposed to me. Poor Aunt Emily was very anxious for me to marry him, but it was a sheer, utter impossibility. Poor Aunt E——! Mr. Mowbray is rich, I believe, and of very good family, but I have never liked him, and I could not think of it for a moment. It was very painful to me to find how annoyed she was with me, even to the last. And of course Mr. Mowbray ceased to visit here, though I had to meet him sometimes. Altogether, it will be a great relief to me in every way, to get to Bradstane for a time. Now you are acquainted with all my reasons for wishing to come to you, and with my plans too, for the present. Send me a line soon, and believe me, ‘Your affectionate sister, ‘ELEANOR ASKAM.’ Otho flung the letter upon the table with temper. ‘Why the d—l could not she marry the fellow?’ he muttered angrily, looking darkly at Pouncer, who slightly moved his tail and elevated his ears with a sigh, as if he too wondered why—why she could not have married the fellow. ‘What could she wish for more? A girl in her position ought to take the first opportunity that offers—good, of course—of settling herself in life. And I’m sure old Aunt Emily knew what she was about. No one keener on family and money in the world. If she wanted the match so badly, I’ll go bail it was a good one. Of course she must marry—girls like her always must marry—and of course she can’t go and marry a nobody. What a fool she must be! One would think she was not all there. Not that I should think the parson and I should have hit it off very well as brothers-in-law.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘A thundering mistake, that will,’ he went on within himself. ‘Such wills have no business to be made.’ This reflection referred to a clause in his father’s will, providing that Otho’s sister, so long as he and she both remained unmarried, was entitled to a home at Thorsgarth whenever she chose to inhabit it. In the event of his marriage, there remained for her the Dower House, which indeed was hers for her life if she did not marry—an old stone house in the square, not far from the Red Gables. ‘I can’t stop it, I suppose. It is a beastly nuisance, if ever there was one. As for going to fetch her, I shall do no such thing. Go nearly three hundred miles to fetch back some one I don’t want? Not I!... And what can I do with her when I get her here? Good Lord! why must women be so stupid? Such sentimental nonsense! Because I am her brother—bah! There’s that whey-faced Paul Stanley, her cousin, looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth—she’s known him all her life, and he has been far more of a brother to her than I have.’