“One question, Conny; do you remember one Sunday night leaving me hurriedly on hearing the clock strike seven?” “Yes. I went to meet Theodore. Oh, Charlie, how I hated you for stopping at home that evening!” “And on that evening I asked you to marry me!” I exclaimed, with a laugh like a groan. “What fools men sometimes make of themselves! But never mind. I’ve pulled the knife out of my side--the wound, I say, is healed. This is my little folly--but the farce is played out, and I am obliged to you for letting the curtain fall, and turning us all out before the tragedy began. Let us join the others. If your husband and I are to love each other, I mustn’t begin by making him jealous.” “One word, Charlie--what do you think of Theresa?” “I like her very much,” I answered, looking into those blue eyes of hers, in whose depths I had so often sank out of sight of common sense. “Are you in love with her?” “I am,” I exclaimed, emphatically. Quite a bright smile shone in her face. “That confession makes me happy,” said she; “for it satisfies me that I have not betrayed _so very devoted_ a heart, after all!” She opened the door and passed out. Hush! hark! what was that? A scream, followed by a gurgle! Good heavens! my aunt was in hysterics again! My hat was within reach of my hand; two strides would take me to the door. “I hate scenes!” I whispered, whilst Conny listened with a pale and frightened face. “I have no right to intrude on domestic troubles. Please apologise for my sudden departure. Good night.” And out I rushed. CHAPTER V. _Frisk._ “Relations aren’t always welcome: but a pretty cousin can never come too soon, nor stay too long.” _The Vagrant._ On reaching my lodgings, I wrote a letter to Theresa, in which I gave her all the news she had asked me for, and in which also, I am afraid, I was more jocose on the subject of my aunt’s hysterics than a strict sympathy would have sanctioned. However, the letter was entirely to my satisfaction, especially those portions of it in which I referred with proper obscurity to my feelings. I then walked with it to the letter-box, returned, smoked a pipe, and went to bed, where I meditated without emotion on Conny, and finally fell asleep to dream of Theresa. Next morning, whilst I was at breakfast, my uncle drove up to the gate. “Charlie,” said he, on entering my sitting-room, “my wife has an idea, and I want to talk it over with you. But get on with your breakfast--don’t let me disturb you.” “What is the idea, uncle?” “Decent lodgings are not to be got in Updown,” he answered, looking around the room inquisitively; “my wife went everywhere before she settled upon these for you. But this appears a thoroughly comfortable house, with a very presentable and respectable exterior. Indeed it is a house fit for any lady or gentleman to live in.”