The important epistle was delivered at Rose Mount just as the sisters had finished breakfast, and was brought in by Tamsin when she came to clear the table. “From Miss Ethel,” said the old woman as she laid it down in front of Miss Matilda, whose turn to enact the part of elder sister it happened to be. Ethel’s letters always arrived about breakfast-time and were read aloud by one or other of the sisters, and, somehow, Tamsin generally contrived to be present at the reading—a privilege tacitly accorded her by her mistresses. Miss Matilda, with characteristic precision, proceeded to slit open the envelope with the tiny pair of scissors which she always carried in a case in her pocket. Tamsin, with dilatory fingers, was removing the breakfast things one by one on to the tray which she had brought in with her. Miss Matilda read the first few lines aloud, and then paused in a tremor of agitation. A low cry escaped from Miss Jane. The sisters gazed at each other across the table, the same expression of consternation and distress on the faces of both. “Engaged to Everard Lisle! Oh! who would have thought it?” they exclaimed at the same moment, for not only their thoughts on any given subject, but very often the words by which they gave expression to them, were identical. Then for a minute or more both seemed unable to find another word to say. “I should have thought,” said Miss Matilda at length in her most dignified tone, in which there was yet an unwonted quaver, as she gave a tug at the little knitted shawl which she always wore at breakfast time: “I should have thought that, after the wretched experience Ethel went through so recently, she would have shunned the other sex most assiduously, if not for ever, in any case for a very long time to come.” Miss Matilda took up the letter again and read aloud to the end. Tamsin had transferred the breakfast things to her tray, and had deposited the latter on the sideboard; she now proceeded to draw the cloth off the table and to slowly fold it. Not a word escaped her. “I am afraid, sister, that we can but bow to the inevitable,” said Miss Matilda with a sigh as she folded the letter. “It seems to me that we have no right, even if we had the will, to withhold our approval of the step she has chosen to take.” “My own view exactly,” replied Miss Jane with a sorrowful shake of the head. “And yet—oh, dear!—we shall only have the dear girl back at home to lose her permanently after a little while. And I was looking forward—— Oh! I was looking forward to so many things.”