"Ah, I thought so; he has in a sense taken the definite understanding for granted, as it were," said Mrs Wentworth. "And you know, dearie, he is much older than you--about my own age, in fact," with a touch of her little bridling of self-satisfaction, "and you must let him, as it were, do things in his own way." "Yes, I know he is much older than I. You do not need to remind me of that," said Imogen, in a melancholy tone. And a vision passed before her of the ideal husband--rather, perhaps, the lover--she had pictured in her girlish dreams, eager, devoted, ardent; it was not the staid, almost paternal Major Winchester! Mrs Wentworth's face clouded. "But, my darling," she said, "you don't mean--" "Oh, I don't know what I mean. I am not good enough or clever enough for him; but I daresay it will be all right. I will tell him so; and he is very kind and patient. He will teach me, I daresay, and--I know it will be a comfort to you to--to feel--and--" Here a smile for the first time broke through her troubled expression: "Just fancy, mamsey, how astonished every one will be! It _will_ be fun to write to Dora; and, mamsey, I must have her for one of my bridesmaids." "We shall see, dearie; we shall see. Yes, indeed, every one _will_ be astonished," and visions of the delightful letters of _faire-part_ of the exciting news to her special cronies that would fall to her own share floated before Mrs Wentworth's dazzled eyes. "Not but that Imogen might have made a more _brilliant_ marriage," she imagined herself saying; "but Major Winchester is a man one can so thoroughly _trust_, and--" Here her daughter's voice interrupted her. She was pointing to the postscript and looking rather dismayed. "Mamma," she said, "did you notice this? I don't think I did; at least, I was so startled I don't know if I noticed it or not. But I shouldn't have told _even you_." "Oh, nonsense, darling! He could not have meant to exclude _me_," said Mrs Wentworth. "However--" "You will be very, _very_ careful, won't you, mamsey?" urged, the girl, who was not without experience of her mother's impulsiveness. "_Of course_, dear, in any case; about such a thing you don't think I need warning?" said Mrs Wentworth, in a slightly aggrieved tone. "But--that Miss Forsyth," said Imogen; "she is so wheedling, and you know you _are_ rather easily taken in, mamsey, dear." The adjective and the caressing tone--for Imogen was not given to gush-- smoothed down Mrs Wentworth's ruffled feathers. "I'll be _very_ careful, dearest," she said; and then, at last, she tore herself away, Imogen promising to follow her down-stairs with the utmost possible speed.