However, at last her brother-in-law put her into the brougham, desiring the boys to walk home, which they did very willingly, and with a wonderful air of lordship and possession. “Well, Caroline,” said the Colonel, “I congratulate you on being the richest proprietor in the county.” “O Robert, don’t! If--if,” said a suffocated voice, so miserable that he turned and took her hand kindly, saying-- “My dear sister, this feeling is very--it becomes you well. This is a fearful responsibility.” She could not answer. She only leant back in the carriage, with closed eyes, and moaned-- “Oh! Joe! Joe!” “Indeed,” said his brother, greatly touched, “we want him more than ever.” He did not try to talk any more to her, and when they reached the Pagoda, all she could do was to hurry up stairs, and, throwing off her bonnet, bury her face in the pillow. Janet and her aunt both followed, the latter with kind and tender solicitude; but Caroline could bear nothing, and begged only to be left alone. “Dear Ellen, it is very kind, but nothing does any good to these headaches. Please don’t--please leave me alone.” They saw it was the only true kindness, and left her, after all attempts at bathing her forehead, or giving her sal volatile, proved only to molest her. She lay on her bed, not able to think, and feeling nothing but the pain of her headache and a general weight and loneliness. The first break was from Allen, who came in tenderly with a cup of coffee, saying that they thought her time was come for being ready for it. His manner always did her good, and she sat up, pushed back her hair, smiled, took the cup, and thanked him lovingly. “Uncle Robert is waiting to hear if you are better,” he said. “Oh yes,” she said; “thank him; I am sorry I was so silly.” “He wants me to dine there to-night, mother, to meet Mr. Rowse and Mr. Wakefield,” said Allen, with a certain importance suited to a lad of fifteen, who had just become “somebody.” “Very well,” she said, in weary acquiescence, as she lay down again, just enough refreshed by the coffee to become sleepy. “And mother,” said Allen, lingering in the dark, “don’t trouble about Elfie. I shall marry her as soon as I am of age, and that will make all straight.” Her stunned sleepiness was scarcely alive to this magnanimous announcement, and she dreamily said-- “Time enough to think of such things.” “I know,” said Allen; “but I thought you ought to know this.”