Amazement was Mr. Grey's only feeling on first hearing this announcement. He could scarcely believe his ears, much less take in the subject-matter in all its bearings. Again, however, he refused his consent, and forbade Mr. Wentworth to think of his daughter. He immediately communicated the conversation to his wife, who was not less surprised than himself, but who relieved him excessively by saying at once that there must be some misunderstanding on the young man's part, for Pauline, she knew, took no interest in him whatever. That is, Mrs. Grey took it for granted that Pauline must see him with her eyes, and did not hesitate to answer for the fact. She went at once to Pauline's room, where she found her lying on the sofa, a book open in her hand, but evidently lost in a world of dreamy and pleasant revery. With very little circumlocution, for Mrs. Grey was too much excited to choose her words carefully, she repeated to Pauline her conversation with her father; whereupon Pauline rose, and sitting up, her color changing, but her eye clear and bright, said, "Surely, mother, you knew it all." "Knew what, Pauline?" "That Mr. Wentworth was attached to me, and that I--I--" "Surely, Pauline," exclaimed Mrs. Grey, hastily, "you are not interested in him." "Yes," answered Pauline, roused by her mother's tone and manner to something of her old spirit, and looking at her fully and clearly, all diffidence having now vanished in the opposition she saw before her, "I am--I love him, love him with my whole soul." "Pauline, my child, are you mad!" almost shrieked Mrs. Grey, shocked almost past the power of endurance by her daughter's tones and words. "_I_ am not mad, no mother," said Pauline, with an emphasis, as if she thought her mother might be. "And why do you speak thus to me? You introduced Mr. Wentworth yourself to me; you first invited him here--and why, mother, do you affect this surprise now?" and Pauline's color deepened, and her voice quivered as she thought, with a sense of her mother's inconsistency and injustice. "_I_ introduced him to you, Pauline! Yes, I believe I did--but what of that? Do you suppose--no, Pauline, you are a girl of too much sense to suppose that I must be willing you should marry every man I introduce or invite to the house." "What are your objections to Mr. Wentworth?" asked Pauline, firmly. "My objections, Pauline! My child, you drive me almost mad!" said Mrs. Grey, her daughter's manner forcing on her more and more the conviction of the earnestness of her present fancy--for Mrs. Grey could not think it more. "Why, Pauline, I have every objection to him. What pretensions has he that should entitle him to dream of you, Pauline? You, my child, with your talents and beauty, and acquirements, are not surely going to throw yourself away upon this young man, who is every way inferior to you." "Mother," said Pauline, with energy, "you don't know him."