Every one was late, and never came down at any particular time--and somebody was sure to have a cold, and require breakfast sent up-stairs--joined, too, to all this, was the stiffness originating in the feeling that they were in Sunday costume, composed of dresses which required a great deal of care to be taken of them. Caroline often secured to herself the pleasure of giving Hargrave a cup of tea before the others made their appearance; and Mabel, having, unluckily, made her _entree_, one morning, at what she deemed so inopportune a period, avoided being early ever afterwards. Caroline, having, this morning, been fortunate enough to secure her position, made a rather ostentatious display of her care for his comfort. "There," she said, when he came in, "I have made you some toast--and your tea is quite ready--no, I mean your chocolate--for you must try that this morning--it is best quite hot--so I have got it in this little pot by the fire, for, see, I have been making it myself." "Thank you," said Hargrave, in a sufficiently discouraging tone, as he accepted her services. "You are a naughty boy," she returned; "you never say anything more than that sulky thank you." "Because I am really sorry to give you so much trouble," said he, sincerely; "I am so accustomed to wait on myself, that--" "Say no more, you sulky creature," cried she, with one of her blandest smiles; "'virtue is its own reward'--so I will give you your chocolate without any thanks. But I wish you would not go away to-day--do come with us to the Octagon?" "No, thank you--I am engaged." "Why, you are as punctual to your engagements, as if you were courting some country lass, in your Sunday's best. I am afraid you are doing no good. You are not going, I hope, to act the play of the lowly lady over again?" "What was that?" "Why, do you not remember the story of the young lord, pretending to be a country-man, or artist, or something of that kind, and so marrying a young lady--no, not a lady, a poor girl, I mean--and never telling her till he took her home to his grand house?" "Oh, yes, I do, now you speak of it. Not a bad idea, upon my word--it would be something novel to be certain of exciting a disinterested affection." Caroline's cheeks tingled--she had never got him so near the subject before. "Are you one of the sceptics on that point, then?" she enquired. "No--yes--well, I really do not know--but I am, at times, puzzled to think what makes women marry sometimes so badly, and often with so little consideration." "Oftener for love than you suppose," said she, leaning over his shoulder, to put a tempting white nub of sugar in his chocolate, suspending it awhile as she held it. "Perhaps so," he replied, attacking his plate of ham, which she had been thinly slicing for him, with very good appetite. "I suppose," said she, "having Aston Manor, and its goodly acres, tacked to your other accomplishments, makes you suspicious?"