“I’m a very unfeeling, unchristianly old woman, my dear, to speak in such terms of my only brother. Poor, dear Richard! whom I remember the handsomest and most-popular man in Northumberland. Kiss me, and forgive me, Florence. I’ll never say such cruel things again, and you shall keep your name. It’s one of the oldest in England. There is not a more ancient or honorable family anywhere than the Heritons, let who will say to the contrary.” Florence gave her impulsive relative the kiss she asked, and then inquired what Mrs. Blunden’s arrangements were, and when she proposed that they should take their departure from Orwell Court. “Oh, my dear, I’ve come for a month at least! You need not look so surprised. I promised Mr. Aylwinne that my first visit in England should be to him, and so here I am. I have seen him while you were sleeping, and he has pressed me to stay as long as I feel comfortable.” “I thought we should have gone away at once,” said Florence, to whose heart these weeks of close intimacy with Mr. Aylwinne would be a greater trial than an immediate parting. “Why? Where do you wish to go?” Mrs. Blunden asked sharply. “Anywhere you please; I have no choice.” “Then why do you wish to hurry me away from here? Unless, indeed, you have not been well used. Tell me, child, has Mr. Aylwinne treated you ill in any way?” And the lady’s color began to rise and her eyes to sparkle defiantly. “No, aunt--no; he has been most kind--most considerate!” was the answer, given with a sigh. Mrs. Blunden still looked unsatisfied. “But you must have a motive for proposing to go away before I have scarcely had time to say half a dozen sentences to my host.” “Yes,” said Florence sadly, “and my principal one is that I dread the pang of parting, and long to have it over.” Mrs. Blunden gave herself a cross shake. “Really, child, you are too sentimental! You don’t mean to tell me that you shall half break your heart at saying good-by to two troublesome little boys and a fidgety old lady?” “No,” Florence replied, with an effort at indifference. “I’ll not break my heart at parting with any one. I’m sorry I said anything about it; and we will go or stay, just as you please, Aunt Margaret.” “As for Mr. Aylwinne, you have seen too little of him to feel any regrets on his account,” Mrs. Blunden went on, answering her own thoughts more than her niece’s words. “Neither is he the sort of man to captivate a young girl’s fancy. He is too staid--too reserved; besides, I have my doubts about him.” “Doubts, Aunt Margaret?” cried Florence breathlessly. “What do you know? What have you heard?” “Pooh! Nothing tangible, so never repeat it. But there’s no denying that he’s very eccentric; and it’s my own opinion that his brain is slightly affected. You know he had been in India for some years, which might account for it.”