“It is not my place to tell you, Miss Aguilar, and perhaps I even do not know.” “But what do you _think_, then, Mrs. Collins? oh! please tell me, it is not from idle curiosity, but because, because I do love Hagar and Raymond _so_ much, and they are both _so_ unhappy, especially Hagar, and they will not either of them give me a bit of satisfaction, and I want so much to know if I can do anything to mend it; tell me what is the matter, Mrs. Collins?” “Young ladies should be very particular, Miss Aguilar; they may give trouble where they little think it.” “‘Particular,’ why, I _am_ particular, am I not? I dress myself carefully and practise my music every day, and that is all Sophie and Captain Wilde required of me; and, lo! if I were _ever_ so slovenly and idle, I should not think _that_ would make so much trouble; and even if it did, I should think that they would tell me of it—but it can never be _that_.” “You do not understand me, Miss Aguilar.” “What is it then you mean, Mrs. Collins?” “I mean young ladies should not make too free,” said the old lady, looking solemnly through her spectacles at the girl. “No, they should not make too free.” “‘Too free,’ ‘too free,’ _how_ too free?” “Too free—_with gentlemen_.” “Too free with gentlemen! who is too free with gentlemen? You don’t mean _me_, do you, Mrs. Collins; oh! no, you can’t mean me, because I do not see any gentlemen to be free with, you know! No, of course you don’t mean _me_; what do you mean, Mrs. Collins?” “I mean _you_, Miss Aguilar; I mean that _you_ must not be too free with gentlemen.” “But I don’t _see_ any.” “_None?_” “No, indeed! to be sure none—oh! except Raymond, but then I love _him_ because he is dear Hagar’s husband and my relative, and because _he_ is _always_ good to me; so good! so gentle! so tender _always_! but of course you do not mean _him_, oh no! and I should like to know what you _do_ mean, dear Mrs. Collins?” “Have I not heard you speak of a lady, the mother of your betrothed?” “Yes, Mrs. Buncombe; why?” “You had better write to Mrs. Buncombe to come for you, and you had better return and remain with her until your people come back from foreign parts.” “Oh! I should like that, if Hagar would let me go.” “She will let you go, depend upon it.” “But now that I come to think of it, I cannot leave Hagar either; poor Hagar! while she is so sad, it would be a sin.” “Miss Aguilar, your cousin would prefer you to go, I am sure, and you had better take my advice.” “I am sure I should be glad to go if I thought Hagar could spare me, and I will see about it.” “_Do_, my dear child—and—do not mention that _I_ suggested it to you.” “Why not, Mrs. Collins, why must I not? I don’t love secrets, I never keep secrets—now why must I not say that you told me?” “Well! say so then, my dear, and say at the same time that I think you sickly and _weak_, _very_ weak, and that I think a visit South would benefit your health.”