Now, although she did not like Joan Haste, and resented as an impertinence, or worse, her conduct in following Dr. Childs to the parlour and reporting what took place there to Henry, Ellen could not deny that she was handsome, indeed beautiful, or that her manners were refined beyond what was to be expected of one in her station, and her bearing both gracious and dignified. Was it not possible, Ellen reflected, that these charms had produced an effect even upon her puritan brother, who already expressed his gratitude with such unnecessary warmth? The thought filled her with alarm, for if once Henry became entangled with this village beauty, she knew enough of him to be sure that there would be an end of any prospect of his engagement to Emma—at least for the present. Meanwhile the girl was about him all day and every day, and never had a woman a better opportunity of carrying her nefarious schemes to a successful issue; for that Joan had schemes she soon ceased to doubt. In this dilemma Ellen took counsel with her _fiancé,_ whom she knew to possess a certain shrewdness; for she preferred to say nothing to her mother, and Sir Reginald was so unwell that he could not be troubled with such matters. By this time Edward Milward was aware that the Graves family desired greatly to bring about a match between Henry and Emma, though he was not aware how pressing were the money difficulties which led them to be anxious for this alliance. He listened with interest to Ellen’s tale, then chuckled and said,— “Depend upon it you have knocked the right nail on the head as usual, Ellen. Those sanctimonious fellows like your brother are always the deepest, and of course he is playing his little game.” “I don’t know what you mean by ‘his little game,’ Edward, and I wish that you would not use such vulgar expressions to me; nor can I see how Henry can be playing anything, considering that he never saw this person till the day of his accident, and that he has been laid up in bed ever since.” “Oh, well, he is getting ready to play it, which is much the same thing, and of course it puts him off the other girl. I am sure I don’t blame him either, for I think that Joan— what’s her name—is about the loveliest woman I ever saw, and one can’t wonder that he prefers her to that—thin ghost of a Miss Levinger with her die-away airs and graces. After all flesh and blood is the thing, and you may depend upon it Henry thinks so.” In this speech, had he but known it, Edward contrived to offend his betrothed in at least three separate ways, but she thought it prudent to suppress her resentment, at any rate for the moment. “Do you think, dear,” Ellen said blandly, “that you could manage to remember that you are not in a club smoking-room? I did not ask for these reflections; I asked you to give me your advice as to the best way to deal with a difficulty.”