don’t mean to say that it is not a disappointment,” she said; “I hoped, of course-- I don’t deny it--to be mistress here myself. I have worked for it: through all Sir Anthony’s illness, I am sure, I never was less attentive to him because I knew I should be turned out as soon as he was released from his sufferings.” “No, I am sure you never were,” said the new Sir Anthony, warmly. “And I should have liked to be my lady, I don’t deny it. If my poor Aubrey had lived, I should have enjoyed the position quite as much as you I hope will enjoy it, my dear.” “Oh, enjoy it! think of the responsibility!” cried the new Lady Bellingham. “I should not have minded the responsibility; but Providence has settled otherwise--you have it, and I have not. But don’t think I am going to be disagreeable on that account. I will move into the Dower House as soon as you please, and I will do everything I can to help you in settling down. I know how to struggle for my rights when it is necessary,” Mrs. Bellingham had said, not without a warning glance at Sir Anthony, “but, thank Heaven, I also know how to submit.” In this spirit she had begun her life, and with the same noble meaning had lived many years a kind of secondary star in the Bellingham firmament, shining independently, but never in opposition. A close connection with the Court made the Dower House important, and she kept up that connection. She was always serviceable, giving as well as receiving, maintaining her own position, even while she magnified it by that of the great house; and, in short, nothing, all her friends allowed, could be more perfect than her behavior, which was everything a sister’s ought to be, and everything that could be desired in an aunt. The Dower House was a pretty house, and Mrs. Bellingham’s jointure was sufficient to permit her a comfortable little carriage, a nice little establishment, with the means of giving excellent dinners when she chose, and enjoying life in a dignified and most comfortable way. On the other hand, she dined very often at the Court, and had the use of their superfluous luxuries, and a share in everything that was going on, which increased at once her comfort and her consequence. This was the position in which she stood to her relations and neighbors. She felt now that she was about to repay them a hundred-fold for all the little advantages they had thrown in her way by providing for Aubrey, who was her husband’s godson, and the least successful member of the family. Aubrey was very accomplished, very charming, very idle. He could not be got to do anything, except make himself agreeable, and he had never even done that to any purpose. When Mrs. Bellingham heard that her father was dying, her first thought was of this. But she was a woman who could keep her own counsel. She sent Aubrey a check, and directions for his route: she threw facilities in his way, of which he did not, perhaps, quite make the use she expected; but still things