"Nay, nay--I am a prophetess just now," replied Lady Anne. "Beware how you doubt Cassandra, lest she predict woes as well as blessings. I see a little cloud coming, and the stars tell me it is very near. It sweeps over the face of the moon; but the moon scatters it, and the blue sky drinks it up." "Dear me! is the moon risen?" exclaimed Lady Fleetwood from the other side of the room; and Lady Anne's fanciful visions were gone in a moment. "Oh, dear!" she said to Maria, with a low voice and a sigh, "I forgot we were in this world, but always something brings us back to it. No, she is not risen yet, dear Lady Fleetwood." "I thought you said you saw her," said Lady Fleetwood. "I was only romancing," replied Lady Anne: "this is an age when our young women dream dreams, but now I'll talk sober sense. You know, Lady Fleetwood, that I am going to have three gentlemen to stay with me to-morrow; and you must act quite the lady of the house, for decorum's sake--be a very discreet chaperon, and not take the slightest notice if I choose to flirt most desperately with Mr. Winkworth or any one else. I'll do the same, and not take any notice when you flirt with any one--or Maria either." "I am sure, dear Lady Anne, Maria never flirts," said Lady Fleetwood, in the most matter-of-fact way in the world. "Bless her heart! then she shall do it for once, just to keep me in countenance," exclaimed Lady Anne; "but remember you are to be chaperon, Lady Fleetwood, and to look as demure as possible." "But where is Mrs. Brice?" said Lady Fleetwood: "I haven't seen her since we came." "Oh, dear me! I forgot Mrs. Brice," said Lady Anne. "Well, she will do quite as well for a chaperon, and so you shall have leave to flirt too; but the truth is, she's so tired with her journey, and so frightened with the desolation we found reigning in these halls, that she said she would not come down to-night, and dined in her own room. To-morrow she will be as brisk as ever, I dare say, and that will just do; for I expect Mr. Hargrave, whom I am in love with, and intend to marry, to dine with us also." "Mr. Hargrave!" "Intend to marry!" exclaimed Lady Fleetwood and Maria, both together. "Certainly," said Lady Anne: "he is the dearest, cleverest, most beautiful old man in the world, in a velvet coat, embroidered waistcoat, and black velvet breeches; just like a fine piece of Dresden china well preserved. He is, moreover, the soul of honour and the spirit of good judgment. If I had the most difficult and delicate thing in the world to do, I would entrust it to Mr. Hargrave." "I have seen him," said Lady Fleetwood; "I remember him quite well in poor Sir John's lifetime, but Sir John did not like him." "My dear father did," replied Lady Anne, "and consulted him on all his affairs; so you see I could not do better than marry him, for I am sure I want some one to manage me. Don't I, dear lady?"