And now here was the same Miss Courtenay smiling upon her friends, fair and radiant, showing no traces of last year's tragedy in her looks or manners; being, indeed, one of those women who do not wear their hearts upon their sleeves for daws to peck at. The local mind, therefore, arrived at the conclusion that Miss Courtenay had consoled herself for the loss of one lover by the gain of another, and was now engaged to her cousin. Clara St. Aubyn ventured to congratulate her upon this happy issue out of bygone griefs. "I am so glad," she said, squeezing Christabel's hand, during an inspection of the hot-houses. "I like him so much." "I don't quite understand," replied Christabel, with a freezing look: "who is it whom you like? The new Curate?" "No dear, don't pretend to misunderstand me. I am so pleased to think that you and your cousin are going to make a match of it. He is so handsome--such a fine, frank, open-hearted manner--so altogether nice." "I am pleased to hear you praise him," said Christabel, still supremely cold; "but my cousin is my cousin, and will never be anything more." "You don't mean that?" "I do--without the smallest reservation." Clara became thoughtful. Leonard Tregonell was one of the best matches in the county, and he had always been civil to her. They had tastes in common, were both horsey and doggy, and plain-spoken to brusqueness. Why should not she be mistress of Mount Royal, by-and-by, if Christabel despised her opportunities? At half-past seven, the last carriage had driven away from the porch; and Mrs. Tregonell, thoroughly exhausted by the exertions of the afternoon, reclined languidly in her favourite chair, moved from its winter-place by the hearth, to a deep embayed window looking on to the rose-garden. Christabel sat on a stool at her aunt's feet, her fair head resting against the cushioned elbow of Mrs. Tregonell's chair. "Well, Auntie, the people are gone and the birthday is over. Isn't that a blessing?" she said lightly. "Yes, dear, it is over, and you are of age--your own mistress. My guardianship expires to-day. I wonder whether I shall find any difference in my darling now she is out of leading-strings." "I don't think you will, Auntie. I have not much inclination for desperate flights of any kind. What can freedom or the unrestricted use of my fortune give me, which your indulgence has not already given? What whim or fancy of mine have you ever thwarted? No, Aunt Di, I don't think there is any scope for rebellion on my part." "And you will not leave me, dear, till the end?" pleaded the widow. "Your bondage cannot be for very long."