This secret incident in the family history left a great deal of agitation in the house. Mrs. Mountford had not been informed in any detail what her husband’s mission to Hunston was. She knew that he had gone to ‘tamper with his will,’ as she said, but what were the exact changes he meant to make in that will she did not know. They were certainly to the advantage of Rose and to the detriment of Anne: so much she was aware of, but scarcely anything more. And she herself was frightened and excited, afraid of all the odium to which she would infallibly be exposed if the positions of the sisters were changed, and more or less affected by a shrinking from palpable injustice; but yet very much excited about Rose’s possible good fortune, and not feeling it possible to banish hopes and imaginations on this point out of her mind. If Rose was put in the first place it would not be just--not exactly just, she said to herself, with involuntary softening of the expression. Rose’s mother (though she would be blamed) knew that of herself she never would have done anything to deprive Anne of her birthright. But still, if papa thought Anne had behaved badly, and that Rose deserved more at his hands, he was far better--no doubt _far better_, able to judge than she was; and who could say a word against his decision? But it was very irritating, very wearing, not to know. She tried a great many ways of finding out, but she did not succeed. Mr. Mountford was on his guard, and kept his own counsel. He told her of Heathcote’s proposal, but he did not tell her what he himself meant to do. And how it was that her husband was so indifferent to Heathcote’s proposal Mrs. Mountford could not understand. She herself, though not a Mountford born, felt her heart beat at the suggestion. ‘Of course you will jump at it?’ she said. ‘I do not feel in the least disposed to jump at it. If there had been a boy, it might have been different.’ Mrs. Mountford always felt that in this there was an inferred censure upon herself--how unjust a censure it is unnecessary to say: of course she would have had a boy if she could--of that there could be no question. ‘A boy is not everything,’ she said. ‘It would be just the same thing if Anne’s husband took the name.’ ‘Don’t speak to me of Anne’s husband,’ he cried, almost with passion. ‘I forbid you to say a word to me of Anne’s affairs.’ ‘St. John! what can you mean? It would be barbarous of me, it would be unchristian,’ cried the much-exercised mother, trying hard to do her duty, ‘not to speak of Anne’s affairs. Probably the man you object to will never be her husband; probably----’ ‘That is enough, Letitia. I want to hear nothing more upon the subject. Talk of anything else you like, but I will have nothing said about Anne.’