‘He did walk over to the cottage,’ one of the girls said; and the other added: ‘How do you find out things, mamma? Now I am sure I never should have thought of anything of that kind.’ ‘My dears,’ said Mrs. Plowden with a certain complaisance, ‘you never knew Reginald Plowden. And I do. You cannot gather grapes off thorns, or figs off thistles; and if there ever was thorns and thistles in flesh and blood, Reginald Plowden is the man. That your Aunt Emily should still expect to get her money back from him, just shows what a thing family affection is; but she might as well expect it to drop down from those lilac-trees.’ The girls did not say anything in reply; but Emmy, for her part, thought of quite a different explanation. She believed that Leo Swinford, whose proceedings had been so great an object of interest, and of whom she knew both by her own observation and by common report that he was ‘always at the cottage,’ had offered himself and his fortune to Lady William. Proposed to Aunt Emily!--that was how poor Emmy put it. A girl cannot but think such a proposal wholly ridiculous, if not an absolute infatuation. Her respect for her aunt made her still believe and hope that the proposal had been rejected; but this wonderful event would quite account for the ‘something on his mind,’ which it was very clear the Rector had. What he had gone to town about, however, and whether his mission could have any bearing upon this disquieting question, Emmy could not say. Florence was so preoccupied with other matters that upon this, even though it cost her sister so much disquietude, she expressed no opinion at all.