Six weeks had quietly passed, when, like a domestic thunderbolt, came Juliana's notification of her intention to return home at the end of a week. Mrs. Fulmort, clinging to her single thread of comfort, hoped that Phoebe might still be allowed to come to her boudoir, but the gentlemen more boldly declared that they wanted Phoebe, and would not have her driven back into the schoolroom; to which the mother only replied with fears that Juliana would be in a dreadful temper, whereon Mervyn responded, 'Let her! Never mind her, Phoebe. Stick up for yourself, and we'll put her down.' Except for knowing that she was useful to her mother, Phoebe would have thankfully retired into the west wing, rather than have given umbrage. Mervyn's partisanship was particularly alarming, and, endeavour as she might to hope that Juliana would be amiable enough to be disarmed by her own humility and unobtrusiveness, she lived under the impression of disagreeables impending. One morning at breakfast, Mr. Fulmort, after grumbling out his wonder at Juliana's writing to him, suddenly changed his tone into, 'Hollo! what's this? "My engagement--"' 'By Jove!' shouted Mervyn; 'too good to be true. So she's done it. I didn't think he'd been such an ass, having had one escape.' 'Who?' continued Mr. Fulmort, puzzling, as he held the letter far off--'engagement to dear--dear Devil, does she say?' 'The only fit match,' muttered Mervyn, laughing. 'No, no, sir! Bevil--Sir Bevil Acton.' 'What! not the fellow that gave us so much trouble! He had not a sixpence; but she must please herself now.' 'You don't mean that you didn't know what she went with the Merivales for?--five thousand a year and a baronetcy, eh?' 'The deuce! If I had known that, he might have had her long ago.' 'It's quite recent,' said Mervyn. 'A mere chance; and he has been knocking about in the colonies these ten years--might have cut his wisdom teeth.' 'Ten years--not half-a-dozen!' said Mr. Fulmort. 'Ten!' reiterated Mervyn. 'It was just before I went to old Raymond's. Acton took me to dine at the mess. He was a nice fellow then, and deserved better luck.' 'Ten years' constancy!' said Phoebe, who had been looking from one to the other in wonder, trying to collect intelligence. 'Do tell me.' 'Whew!' whistled Mervyn. 'Juliana hadn't her sharp nose nor her sharp tongue when first she came out. Acton was quartered at Elverslope, and got smitten. She flirted with him all the winter; but I fancy she didn't give you much trouble when he came to the point, eh, sir?' 'I thought him an impudent young dog for thinking of a girl of her prospects; but if he had this to look to!--I was sorry for him, too! Ten years ago,' mused Mr. Fulmort. 'And she has liked no one since?'