“And I have a feeling that there is a--preference, if I may call it so--an inclination, perhaps--dawning in her mind. To lose her would be a terrible deprivation: still,” the Duchess said, “I do not suppose it is in your mind to prevent her from marrying.” “To prevent her from---- You surely have the most curious way of putting things. There is nothing I desire more truly--when a suitable match can be found.” “But don’t you think,” cried the Duchess, “that we are, perhaps, letting the time slip a little? Of course, I would naturally keep my child by me as long as possible, but in her own interests---- Women on the whole are happier to marry, I think,” she said doubtfully. “Marry! of course they are happier to marry. Can there be any doubt upon that subject? A woman unmarried cannot be said to have any life at all!” “Yes, I should say there was a doubt,” said his wife, with again that half laugh; “and as I am one of them, I may be allowed an opinion on the subject. But still, in respect to Jane, I could wish my daughter to marry. In her position, to remain unmarried would really be to remain apart from life.” “It is not to be thought of for a moment; an old maid!” the Duke said, with a quaver of pain in his voice; and he thought of that slight indentation--not a hollow, scarcely more than a dimple, which, however, was not a dimple, on Jane’s cheek. “The truth is,” he said, “that in respect to one’s children one deceives one’s self. I have no feeling that I am myself any older than I was twenty years ago, and therefore I do not notice the difference in her.” “Hungerford is very old,” said the Duchess. “He is older in many things than either you or I.” “Ah, Hungerford; what can you expect with that wife?” the Duke said, with a little shudder; and then he added, with inward alarm but outward jauntiness (so far as dukes can be jaunty), as if her opinion was an excellent joke, “By the way, I suppose that she will have something to say on the subject. She generally has something to say.” “Susan does not conceal her opinion that Jane’s chances are all over,” said the Duchess. “She thinks her _passée_. She believes, I understand, that a clergyman--to whom we could give the living of Billings--would be the likely thing for Jane now.” “A clergyman!” said the Duke, with rage and horror. His wife laughed a little, but there was anger below her laugh. How it was that Susan’s impertinent speeches always came to the ears of her parents-in-law it was difficult to know, but they did so, and they generally had the effect of warming most wholesomely the Duke’s too noble blood. “It is very well known how difficult you are,” said the Duchess. “I don’t think myself that the clergyman is likely to present himself; but if Jane had a preference, as I suppose, I should, for my part, be very unwilling to thwart her.”