When Auntie was young and pretty and little, for a little body she had ever been, she had been engaged to a handsome young fellow in the service of the East India Company. He had come to England for a holiday, happened to see her, had been attracted by her, as well, perhaps, as by the fact that she had some money of her own, and he proposed to her to accept him and go out with him to India. She certainly was greatly attached to Mr. Warnacre. She had never cared for any man previously, never had gone into a gentle flirtation even. Her younger sister was at school, finishing her education, but when the day of the marriage was fixed, she was brought home that she might serve as bridesmaid to her sister. Emily—this schoolgirl—was far prettier than Jane who was to be married, and what money there was, left by the mother, went equally in shares to each sister. The cares of trousseau weighed heavily on Miss Jane, and were undertaken with that thoroughness that characterised all she did. So occupied was she over the preliminaries, so necessarily occupied was she, as her mother was dead and she had no elder sister, that she could not be as much as she wished with her intended, and was constrained to leave him to walk and talk and lounge about with Emily. On the day before the marriage, bridegroom and sister had disappeared. They had eloped together and were married before it was discovered whither they had gone. The blow was acutely felt, how acutely no one knew. Mrs. Estcourt, who was not Mrs. Estcourt then, hastened to her friend to show sympathy and love. “My dear,” said Jane, with her eyes full, “it was only natural. I ought not to have thought of keeping him. Emily is so beautiful. He naturally only cared for me till he saw her. I hope, please God, they will be happy together.” Mr. Warnacre did not venture back to the village, but carried off his wife at once to India. After a while Auntie’s friend became Mrs. Estcourt, and then this latter lady insisted on Jane taking a cottage on her husband’s estate, so as to be near her. She desired to befriend her, and befriend her she did. But the condition of life of a great country squire’s wife, the wife of a man who aimed at becoming representative of his county in Parliament, and that of a solitary lady with moderate means, in a cottage, and without connections in the place, were so diverse, that much as Mrs. Estcourt desired to see a great deal of her friend, she was not able to do so.