“This was a mistake, Livy,” said she, in a voice barely above a whisper; “I was trying on some costumes below stairs, and they tied this round my neck, where I utterly forgot it.” “And there is nothing--” She could not go on, but, hanging her head, burst into tears. “My poor dear Livy, don't give way so; the fault, I know, was all mine. Let me try if I cannot repair it Have you positively refused him?” She nodded, but could not speak. “Did you say that there was no hope,--that your sentiments could never change?” “I did.” “Come, that's not so bad; men never believe that. You did n't say that your affections were engaged?” “No!” “There 's a dear child,” said she, kissing her neck; “I knew you 'd not be guilty of such folly. And how did you part, Livy,--coldly, or in affectionate sorrow?” “Coldly; we did not shake hands.” “That's right; all as it ought to be. It is a sad blunder, but I hope not irreparable. Cheer up, child; depend upon it, _my_ scarf is not so fatal as Aunt Fanny's blessing.” “Ah, then, my dear, I don't see much difference in the end,” said that redoubtable lady herself, who issued from a small conservatory off the drawing-room, where she had lain in wait for the last half hour. “I heard it, my dears, and a nice hash you made of it between you, with your signals and telescopes,”--we believe she meant telegraphs; “you threw out the dirty water, now, in earnest!” And so saying, she proceeded to disentangle herself from a prickly creeper which had a most pertinacious hold of what Linton called her “scalp-lock.” “Aunt Fanny's blessing indeed!” said she, for her temper knew no bounds when she saw the enemy silenced. “'T is little harm that would have done, if ye did n't take to screaming about it; as if any man could bear that! You drove him away, my dear, just the way your own mother did poor Major Cohlhayne,--with hard crying,--till he said, 'he 'd as soon go to a wake as take tay in the house.' And sure enough, she had to take up with your poor father, after! Just so. I never knew luck come of signals and signs. When the good thing 's before you, help yourself. My poor father used to say, 'Don't pass “the spirits” because there 's claret at the head of the table; who knows if it 'll ever come down to you?' And there you are, now! and glad enough you 'd be to take that curate I saw in Dublin, with the smooth face, this minute. I don't blame you as much as your poor foolish mother; she has you as she reared you. Bad luck to you for a plant!” cried she, as the ingenious creeper insinuated itself among the meshes of her Limerick lace collar. “Cary, just take this out for me;” but Cary was gone, and her sister with her. Nor did Aunt Fanny know how long her eloquence had been purely soliloquy. She looked around her for a moment at the deserted battle-field, and then slowly retired. CHAPTER XVII. THE SHADOW IN THE MIRROR “No” is the feminine of “Yes!” Hungarian Proverb.