“You dear little simpleton, and was that all?” said Mrs. Beaumont, vexed to have wasted her time upon such folly: “come, be serious now, my dear; if you knew the anxiety I am in at this moment--” But wisely judging that it would be in vain to hope for any portion of the love-sick damsel’s attention, until she had confirmed her hopes of being married to _somebody_ before the end of the year, Mrs. Beaumont scrupled not to throw out assurances, in which she had herself no further faith. After what she had heard from her son this morning, she must have been convinced that there was no chance of marrying him to Miss Hunter; she knew indeed positively, that he would soon declare his real attachment, but she could, she thought, during the interval retain her power over Miss Hunter, and secure her services, by concealing the truth. “Before I say one word more of my own affairs, let me, my dearest child, assure you, that in the midst of all these disappointments and mortifications about Amelia, I am supported by the hope--by something more than the hope--that I shall see the daughter of my heart happily settled soon: Lightbody does not want penetration, I see. But I am not at liberty to say more. So now, my dear, help me with all your cleverness to consider what I shall do in the difficulties I am in at this moment. Your brother has a letter of mine, approving, and so forth, his addresses to my daughter; now, if he, in the first rashness of his anger, should produce this to Palmer, I’m undone--or to my son, worse and worse! there would be a duel between them infallibly, for Beaumont is so warm on any point of honour--Oh, I dread to think of it, my dear!” “So do I, I’m sure; but, Lord, I’m the worst person to think in a hurry--But can’t you write a letter? for you always know what to say so well--And after all, do you know, I don’t think he’ll be half so angry or _so disappointed_ as you fancy, for I never thought he was so much in love with Amelia.” “Indeed!” “I know, if it was not a secret, I could tell you--” “What? No secrets between us, my darling child.” “Then I can tell you, that just before he proposed for Amelia, he was consulting with me about proposing for Mrs. Dutton.” “Mrs. Dutton, the widow! Mrs. Dutton! How you astonish me!” said Mrs. Beaumont (though she knew this before). “Why she is older than I am.” “Older! yes, a great deal; but then you know my brother is no chicken himself.” “To be sure, compared with you, my dear, he is not young. There’s a prodigious difference between you.” “Above twenty years; _for,_ you know, he’s by another marriage.” “True; but I can’t believe he proposed for Mrs. Dutton.”