"It is a comfort to know that Ned has got what he wanted, at all events," she thought, as she looked at the moody frown which had come over Katharine's countenance as she spoke the last sentences; "and if she's fool enough to _filer le parfait amour_ with this City lout and all his kin, or hypocrite enough to pretend to do so, so much the better,--things will be easier for Ned, and that's the main point." But Lady Henmarsh said aloud, and with the most perfect suavity, "My dear Katharine, you are surely not so silly as to suppose I blame you for any attention to Mr. Streightley's sister. I daresay I shall like her very much when I know her better; and I'm sure it's quite charming to find you getting on so admirably with your people-in-law. And now, I think, having seen as much of your beautiful house as I can manage for to-day, I will disappear until dinner-time. I must look after Sir Timothy. Thank you, dear; I know my way to my rooms. How delightfully you have chosen for me, Kate! just the situation and aspect I like best. Sir Timothy is perfectly charmed." Lady Henmarsh, safely secluded within her own apartment, proceeded to indite a piquant epistle to her "cousin Ned," in which she painted the Streightley _ménage_ in colours highly agreeable to that gentleman's feelings, and indulged herself with some of the ridicule of Ellen and her brother, whose flow had been so peremptorily arrested by Katharine. She knew that it would be rather agreeable than otherwise to Mr. Guyon to be told, on the authority of an eye-witness, that his daughter was perfectly happy; so she gave him that pleasant assurance, inquired affectionately when he proposed coming to witness the felicity of Middlemeads in person, and hinted that his presence would add considerably to the attractions of that sojourn in her own estimation.