Mrs. Chloe also had endless stories to tell of the families in the neighborhood. She had been a belle and a beauty in her day, and received many offers, none of which her brother had seen fit to let her accept. Either there was not money enough, or family enough, or something. So poor Chloe had gone on to thirty-five without being married, and now the smallpox had spoiled her beauty, and she was not like to marry at all. She was a good, gentle, little creature, not at all strong in any way, and had been kept in such a state of tutelage and dependence that she had no mind of her own about any subject save one which she could not keep to herself. Poor Aunt Chloe was desperately anxious to be married. She used to tell us, as she sat over her embroidery frame, about the offers she had had, something in this wise: "There was Mr. Favor, my dears—such a fine young man—six feet high, at least, and a perfect gentleman in manners, I am sure, and a splendid horseman, but his grandfather had been in trade, it seems, and Julius thought it would not do. Then there was the Reverend James P. Thirlwall. He had no great fortune, to be sure, but a good living, and would have settled all my fortune on myself and my children; but then the Thirlwalls are all Whigs, and they say one of the family was connected with the regicides," and so on and so on. I know these stories left me with the strong impression that Sir Julius Leighton's aim had all along been to keep Mrs. Chloe from marrying at all, that her fortune might remain in the family. They did not make me augur well for the success of Mr. Cheriton's suit. I think Amabel felt the same, though she did not say a word. It was from Mrs. Chloe that we heard Mrs. Philippa's story. It seems she had been betrothed to a young man of good family, and the wedding was near at hand, when Mrs. Deborah discovered that the bridegroom was playing a double game—that he was also betrothed to a citizen's daughter in Newcastle, and was only waiting till he could find out which lady was like to have the better fortune of the two. She acquainted her father with her discovery. Sir Thomas being a man of spirit, looked into the matter, discovered the gentleman's double game, and invited him to one of two courses—to marry Mrs. Philippa out of hand, or to meet him with the sword, as the custom was in those days. Mr. Philip Falconer did neither, but preferred to elope with his city lady-love who, though neither young, handsome, nor well born like Mrs. Philippa, had a much larger fortune all in her own power. One would think Mrs. Philippa might have been glad to be free from such a poltroon. Instead of that, she went into fits, took to her bed, and had never spoken to Aunt Deborah since. There appeared no reason why she should not be as active as any one, only that she did not choose, for when she did take a fancy to come down stairs she walked as nimbly as Aunt Deborah herself.