My Aunt Jem even grew a little jealous, and murmured that it was rather hard she should have so little of my company, when she had been the means of my coming to town in the first place; but a little attention from the ambassador's family, and a few introductions to great people, and cards to great entertainments, soon reconciled her to the state of things. As to my Uncle Charles, I am sorry to write it, but I have good reason to believe that he was playing into the hands of Monsieur de Fayrolles all the time. He was deep in debt, and embarrassments of all sorts, caused by his high play and extravagant style of living, and I believe that he deliberately turned me over to my French relations in consideration of being relieved of some of the most pressing of these liabilities. One thing held me back from taking the last step to which I was now being gently urged and persuaded—and that one thing was my love for Andrew. I still wore his ring, and still watched vainly and with the sickness of hope deferred for news of him. The news came at last. I was breakfasting in my aunt's bedroom as usual, for Aunt Jem grew more and more indolent in her habits and often did not rise till noon. Her health was failing even then, and she had very bad nights, but she would never confess that she was ill. She had, however, so far yielded to pain and weakness as to remain at home for a day or two. I was breakfasting with her, as I said, and trying to entertain her with accounts of what I had seen and heard when out with Madame de Fayrolles the day before, when my uncle entered the room. He saluted my aunt with his usual kindness, and then asked me for a cup of coffee. "And what is the news at court?" said my aunt. "Nothing very special, that I know of. One of our ships from the West Indies has come in, and by the way, Vevette, I heard of an old friend of yours—" My heart beat fast, and my hand trembled so that I was fain to set down my cup of chocolate. "Your old friend and flame, our good cousin, has done a very wise thing," he continued, playing the while with my aunt's little dog. "He has married the daughter of a rich planter with I know not how many thousand slaves and acres, and means to settle in those parts as soon as he can arrange his affairs. What say you, chick? Shall I bespeak a willow garland for you?" "I have no occasion for it, thank you," I answered, with a calmness which surprised myself. "That affair was broken off by my mother long ago." "Of course," said my aunt. "Vevette has too much sense to regret that her cousin should look out for himself. I hope to see her make a much better marriage than that. She has improved wonderfully of late, and would grace any station." "But are you quite sure this news is true?" I asked quietly. "It will be a great grief to Andrew's mother and sisters if he should settle abroad."