"My dear child, why should I ask? I interested myself about Lord Hinchenbrook because he was the _parti_ of the season, and because to have carried him off from that odious doll, that Miss Musters, as you could easily, would have been a triumph to us both; but you refused. I interested myself about young Chaldecott because our families had long been intimate, and the largest property in Yorkshire is worth interesting oneself about; but you refused. You know your own mind best, Barbara, and _I_ know that you have too much good sense and real notion of what is right to do a foolish thing; so I leave you to yourself, and don't worry you with any questions." "Thanks, aunt, for your good opinion," said Barbara, playing with a sprig of scarlet geranium which she had taken from a vase on the table; "but I shall give you no further trouble. I am going to be married." "Sir Charles Chaldecott has written?" said the old lady, putting aside the book, and sitting upright in her chair; "has written; and you--?" and in her anxiety Miss Lexden smiled so unguardedly that, for the first time in her life, the gold-settings of her false teeth were seen by a looker-on. "I--we shall not hear any more of Sir Charles Chaldecott, aunt," said Barbara hesitatingly; "no; I am going to be married to a gentleman now staying in this house." Miss Lexden's face fell; the gold teeth-settings disappeared from view entirely; and she shrugged her shoulders as she said, "Very well, my dear; I feared something of the sort. If you like to settle on three thousand a year, and to take a man whose constitution is ruined by the Indian climate, I can only say--it is your affair." Barbara bit her lips to avoid betraying a smile as she replied, "You are wrong again, aunt. Captain Lyster has never done me the honour of an offer." Then seriously, "I am going to be married to Mr. Churchill." "_What?_" shrieked the old lady, surprised out of all decorum; "what?" Then, after an instant's pause, "I beg your pardon, Barbara; did I not understand you to say that you were going to be married to Mr. Churchill, the--the gentleman now staying in this house?" "You did so understand me, aunt, and it is the fact." "Then," said Miss Lexden, in rather a low, flat key, "I'll trouble you to ring the bell for Withers. It must be time for me to dress for dinner." Barbara looked astonished, and would have spoken; but her aunt had risen from her chair and turned her back on her, moving towards the dressing-table. So she mechanically rang the bell, and left the room.