‘Well, my dear, I don’t know what else she had to recommend her. No family, nor connexions; not a penny,--not even expectations! If it was not for her music, what was it for? And so many women give up practice when they marry. I always forget,--is it three or four children they have?’ ‘Two, godmamma,’ said Mary, gently; ‘don’t you remember the poor, dear, little baby died?’ ‘Well, it is quite enough,’ said Mrs. Renton; ‘with nothing but their pay to depend upon. And there will be a black nurse, you may be sure, driving the servants out of their senses. But if she has kept up her practice, it will be an amusement for the boys. And things might have been worse. There might have been three families instead of one, you know, Mary; and then I think I should certainly have run away.’ ‘Yes,--perhaps it is selfish,’ said Mary; ‘but I am glad, too, that they are not all married. It will be more like old times.’ ‘Selfish!’ said Mrs. Renton. ‘I can’t see how it can be selfish. Of course Ben will have to marry some time or other, for the sake of the property. But I never can make out why young men marry, for my part. Haven’t they everything that heart can desire? and no care, and much more petted and taken notice of in society than if they were dragging a wife about with them everywhere? A girl is quite different. She has everything to gain, you see. I often wondered whether I have been doing my duty by you, Mary, keeping you out of the way of a good establishment in life.’ ‘Pray don’t speak so, godmamma,’ said Mary, with a blush of indignation; ‘not to me at least.’ ‘But I do, my dear. And I am sure no one ever deserved to be comfortably settled better than you do. However, I have always found, in my experience,’ said Mrs. Renton, with a profound look of wisdom, ‘that when these things are coming they come, however quietly you may be living; and, if they are not to come, they don’t, however much you may go into society. Look at Jane Sutton, who never was seen out of her father’s house, and now she’s Lady Egmont! I suppose we must expect Mr. Ponsonby to lunch.’