"I would not wish, on any account, to hurry matters," said the dowager; "but the report which is abroad will prevent other young men from putting in their claims, Sir Edward" (sighing). "I have a mother's feelings: if I have been hasty, your goodness will overlook it." And Lady Chatterton placed her handkerchief to her eyes, to conceal the tears that did not flow. Sir Edward thought all this very natural, and as it should be, and he sought an early conference with his son. "John," said the father, taking his hand kindly, "you have no reason to doubt my affection or my compliance to your wishes. Fortune is a thing out of the question with a young man of your expectations." And Sir Edward, in his eagerness to smoothe the way, went on: "You can live here, or occupy my small seat in Wiltshire. I can allow you five thousand a year, with much ease to myself. Indeed, your mother and myself would both straighten ourselves, to add to your comforts; but it is unnecessary--we have enough, and you have enough." Sir Edward, in a few moments, would have settled everything to the dowager's perfect satisfaction, had not John interrupted him by the exclamation of-- "To what do you allude, father?" "Allude?" said Sir Edward, simply. "Why, Grace Chatterton, my son." "Grace Chatterton! Sir Edward. What have I to do with Grace Chatterton?" "Her mother has made me acquainted with your proposals, and"-- "Proposals!" "Attentions, I ought to have said; and you have no reason to apprehend anything from me, my child." "Attentions!" said John, haughtily. "I hope Lady Chatterton does not accuse me of improper attentions to her daughter?" "No, not improper, my son," said his father: "on the contrary, she is much pleased with them." "She is, is she? But I am displeased that she should undertake to put constructions on my acts that no attention or words of mine will justify." It was now Sir Edward's turn to be surprised. He had thought he was doing his son a kindness, when he had only been forwarding the dowager's schemes; but averse from contention, and wondering at his cousin's mistake, which he at once attributed to her anxiety in behalf of a favorite daughter, he told John he was sorry there had been any misapprehension, and left him. "No, no," said Moseley, internally, as he paced up and down his father's library, "my lady dowager, you are not going to force a wife down my throat. If you do, I am mistaken; and Grace, if Grace"--John softened and began to feel unhappy a little, but anger prevailed. From the moment Grace Chatterton conceived a dread of her mother's saying anything to Sir Edward, her whole conduct was altered. She could hardly look any of the family in the face, and it was her most ardent wish that they might depart. John she avoided as she would an adder, although it nearly broke her heart to do so.