“There is no attachment; there is nothing but civility, and the affability of a well-bred superior to an inferior. Attachment! why, there is not a girl in Europe less capable of marrying beneath her; and she is too cold to flirt---but with a view to matrimonial position. The worst of it is, that, while you fear an imaginary danger, you are running into a real one. If we are defeated it will not be by Dodd, but by that Mrs. Bazalgette. Why, now I think of it, whence does Lucy's coldness date? From that viper's visit to my house. Rely on it, if we are suffering from any rival influence, it is that woman's. She is a dangerous woman--she is a character I detest--she is a schemer.” “Am I to understand that Mrs. Bazalgette has views of her own for Miss Fountain?” inquired Talboys, his jealousy half inclined to follow the new lead. “In all probability.” “Oh, then it is mere surmise.” “No, it is not mere surmise; it is the reasonable conjecture of a man who knows her sex, and human nature, and life. Since I have my views, what more likely than that she has hers, if only to spite me? Add to this her strange visit to Font Abbey, and the somber influence she has left behind. And to this woman Lucy is going unprotected by any positive pledge to you. Here is the true cause for anxiety. And if you do not share it with me, it must be that you do not care about our alliance.” Mr. Talboys was hurt. “Not care for the alliance? It was dear to him--all the dearer for the difficulties. He was attached to Miss Fountain--warmly attached; would do anything for her except run the risk of an affront--a refusal.” Then followed a long discussion, the result of which was that he would not propose in form now, but _would_ give proofs of his attachment such as no lady could mistake; _inter alia,_ he would be sure to spend the last evening with her, and would ride the first stage with her next day, squeeze her hand at parting, and look unutterable. And as for the formal proposal, that was only postponed a week or two. Mr. Fountain was to pay his visit to Mrs. Bazalgette, and secretly prepare Miss Fountain; then Talboys would suddenly pounce--and pop. The grandeur and boldness of this strategy staggered, rather than displeased, Mr. Fountain. “What! under her own roof?” and he could not help rubbing his hands with glee and spite--“under her own eye, and _malgre_ her personal influence? Why, you are Nap. I.” “She will be quite out of the way of the Dodds there,” said Talboys, slyly. The senior groaned. (“'Mule I.' I should have said.”) And so they cut and dried it all. The last evening came, and with it, just before dinner, a line by special messenger from Mr. Talboys. “He could not come that evening. His brother had just arrived from India; they had not met for seven years. He could not set him to dine alone.”