“Come in here,” said the spinster, leading the way into a half-darkened drawing-room. “What do you think has happened? Old Mr. Gould is here closeted with mother. What _could_ it be about? Have you any idea, Georgie? Just feel my hands how they tremble. Isn’t it thrilling when a young girl like me feels that two people are settling a destiny of love for her in a close room? Tell me, dear, which is it do you think? Has the elder gentleman struggled against the passion in his bosom, and resigned me, with the wrench of the heart which will be felt through his whole life, to the intense adoration of his nephew—or has he come to plead for himself? Heavens, how the doubt agitates me!” “Is old Mr. Gould with grandmamma now?” inquired Georgie, glad that the half light concealed the expression of her face. “Yes, yes! Hark! he opens the door; his tread is in the upper hall—on the stairs. It comes nearer. Support me, Georgiana.” Miss Eliza curved downward, and hid her face on Georgie’s shoulder. “Oh, Georgie! do not let him come in. This emotion—this wild, young heart will betray itself; and he must not know how I adore him.” “Which?” questioned Georgie. “Which—which? Why, the one that has proposed. How can you ask such questions? Thank heaven! this heart has strength and breadth, and—and capacities; but what is the use of talking to a child to whom love is, as yet, a mystery folded in the bud—while with me it is a full-blown flower? Ah, Georgie! congratulate me.” Again Miss Eliza threw herself slantwise on to Georgie’s neck, and heaved a billowy sigh. “Oh, Aunt Eliza, please! you are so heavy,” pleaded the poor girl. “Heavy! When my whole being is one bright wave of bliss; when this great love rises, full-fledged, from my heart, like a bird of paradise, with all its golden plumage full of sunlight. Go, child, go! this full soul must seek sympathy elsewhere. I will seek my mother, kneel at her feet, and seek the maternal blessing, while she tells me which it is.” Away Miss Eliza sailed into her mother’s room, which she entered with clasped hands. “Oh, mother! have you no news for me?” she cried, falling on her knees before the old lady, who would have been surprised, if any thing about Miss Eliza could surprise her—“spare these blushes, and tell me at once.” “Well, Eliza, it can make no difference; though, perhaps, it would have been best to have consulted with your brother first.” “Then it is positively true; he is to be consulted; that point is settled. Oh, my heart! my heart! Forgive me, mother. You said that he was to be consulted; just have pity on a poor young creature, who sees her fondest hopes vibrating in the balance, and tell me all. Come now.” “There is not much to tell, Eliza; nothing, indeed, which you must not have expected.” “I did—I did.” “Mr. Gould came to ask my consent.” “Yes, yes. Go on.” “How impatient you are, Eliza! He came to ask my consent to the marriage of his nephew with Georgiana.”