She entered with a bright smile, which soon died away, for she read an expression in the faces of her parents, especially that of her mother, which seemed to her sensitive heart prophetic of evil. If it be true, as Madame be Stael asserts, that 'love occupies the whole life of a woman,' it need not be a matter of surprise that the sex can discover each other's love secrets with ease; thus, though Lady Aberfeldie fully suspected what filled the heart of her daughter--so closely had she watched her--she was somewhat pitiless now. With all her queenly manner and soft grace, her unexceptional toilettes and suavity of manner, Lady Aberfeldie had a will of iron, yea, of adamant in some things, and her daughter's marriage with Sir Paget was one of them. She was told plainly and bluntly that he had proposed for her hand; had asked permission to address her on the subject; had offered magnificent--yea, princely settlements; and it was expected the marriage would take place, when the family returned to London, next season. The long dreaded cloud had burst upon her at last! She grew white as a lily on hearing this sentence, clung to a console table for support, and then burst into a torrent of tears, while her father drew her tenderly towards him. 'Be calm, child,' said he, 'we shall give you plenty of time to think about it; marriage is a serious thing at all times.' Eveline thought it was doubly serious with such a bridegroom, but could only sob, while her mother eyed her gloomily, as she thought this excessive grief and repugnance augured worse for her scheme than indignation or defiance would have done; but poor Eveline was all softness and gentleness. 'What folly is this?' she asked. 'I am your only daughter, mamma,' urged Eveline. 'Hence it is your first duty to your family, to yourself, and the world to make an early, eligible, and wealthy marriage. Every season brings many such to pass in our own circle.' 'Are we so poor, mamma?' 'We are not rich, and know not what may happen.' Did Lady Aberfeldie speak prophetically? If so, it was an utterance made unawares. 'Eveline darling,' said her father, 'you were content enough with the attentions of Sir Paget, and to accept even his presents in London, a season or two ago.' 'I was but a girl then fresh from school, and--and joined other girls in laughing at my having an old lover. I--I knew no better,' she continued, sobbing. 'And had not met Cameron of Stratherroch!' said her mother through her set teeth, and quite forgetting the _rôle_ she had so recently suggested. 'No,' thought Eveline, 'and had not learned to love him.' She shivered as if she had been struck when her mother spoke, and then said, with all the firmness she could assume. 'You must mistake us in some way, mamma. Mr. Cameron has never addressed a word to me that he might not have addressed to yourself.'