Mrs. Norton looked with unfeigned amazement at the beaming ambassador, whose enjoyment of his office there could, at least, be no doubt about. The smile on his face, the knowing look, the air of mingled fun and flattery which he put on, with a comical assumption of the aspect which the wooer he represented ought to have worn, half alarmed her. Though she was conscious to the bottom of her heart of her dignity as a married woman, with a late “dear husband” to refer to, yet the mild little lady was as old-maidish in her primness and over-delicacy as the most pronounced specimen of that type. What could Mr. Hunstanton mean? Had he gone out of his senses? or was there anybody so rash and foolish as to think of addressing her, a clergyman’s widow, in this way? A momentary recollection of Mr. Snodgrass flashed across her mind, and a slight blush came upon her matronly cheek. “Oh, shall I run away?” cried Sophy, still more surprised, and most unwilling to go. “No, no! Sophy must not go--why, it is all about Sophy!” cried Mr. Hunstanton. “She must not go on any account. Mrs. Norton, you know it isn’t our English way; but whether it is that I have lived so much abroad, I don’t know, but I think it a very rational way. Inquire first if there are any objections; and then if there are any objections, withdraw without humiliation. Oh yes, I have a great opinion of the good sense of an English girl; but still you know, Sophy, you are fallible, and sometimes a man is drawn on--and then sent to the right-about, as if he had no feelings at all.” Mrs. Norton had taken time to compose herself during this speech. She dismissed the rector out of her mind abruptly, with something of the feeling with which she would have turned an impertinent intruder out of doors--indignant: though, indeed, it was not at all Mr. Snodgrass’s fault that she had thought of him. The excitement was scarcely less when the case was that of Sophy: but still that personal suggestion took the edge off her flutter, and made her listen more calmly. But there are limits to patience. She interrupted Mr. Hunstanton with all the weight of authority. Here certainly she was mistress of the position; though it was not very clearly apparent what that position was. “I have no objection to you as an ambassador, Mr. Hunstanton,” she said, “and I think it very right that any gentleman should address me first rather than to disturb my child. But Sophy, pardon me, had better withdraw. The only reason for telling me would be that Sophy should not know--except afterwards, if I thought fit, through me.”