“Poor simple creature! she had but one idea--that you had seen it! that she would not for the world you had read it. What would you think of her--she should never be able to meet you again--What could she do? It must be contradicted--somebody must contradict it. Then she worried me to have it contradicted in the papers. I told her I did not well know how that could be done, and urged that it would be much more prudent not to fix attention upon the parties by more paragraphs. But she was _not_ in a state to think of prudence;--_no_. What would you think was the only idea in her mind?--If I would not write, she would write that minute herself, and sign her name. This, and a thousand wild things, she said, till I was forced to be quite angry, and to tell her she must be governed by those who had more discretion than herself. Then she was so subdued, so ashamed--really my heart bled for her, even whilst I scolded her. But it is quite necessary to be harsh with her; for she has no more foresight, nor art, nor command of herself sometimes, than a child of five years old. I assure you, I was rejoiced to get her away before Mr. Palmer came, for a new eye coming into a family sees so much one wouldn’t wish to be seen. You know it would be terrible to have the poor young creature _commit_ and expose herself to a stranger so early in life. Indeed, as it is, I am persuaded no one will ever think of marrying her, if you do not.----In worldly prudence--but of that she has not an atom--in worldly prudence she might do better, or as well, certainly; for her fortune will be very considerable. Sir John means to add to it, when he gets the Wigram estate; and the old uncle, Wigram, can’t live for ever. But poor Albina, I dare swear, does not know what fortune she is to have, nor what you have. Love! love! all for love!--and all in vain. She is certainly very much to be pitied.” Longer might Mrs. Beaumont have continued in monologue, without danger of interruption from her son, who stood resolved to hear the utmost sum of all that she should say on the subject. Never interrupting her, he only filled certain pauses, that seemed expectant of reply, with the phrases--“I am very sorry, indeed, ma’am”--and, “Really, ma’am, it is out of my power to help it.” But Mrs. Beaumont observed that the latter phrase had been omitted as she proceeded--and “_I am very sorry indeed, ma’am,_” he repeated less as words of course, and more and more as if they came from the heart. Having so far, successfully, as she thought, worked upon her son’s good-nature, and seeing her daughter through the trees coming towards them, she abruptly exclaimed, “Promise me, at all events, dearest Edward, I conjure you; promise me that you will not make proposals _any where else_, without letting me know of it beforehand,--and give me time,” joining her hands in a supplicating attitude, “give me but a few weeks, to prepare my poor little Albina for this sad, sad stroke!”