“She will never lose you, mother,” he said, detaining her. “I can see already what will happen. You will make yourself her slave, and give up every comfort in your life.” “What can I do? What can I do? I have you, but she has nobody. I am coming, Anna, I am coming,” she said. Miss Anna still sat in her easy chair, with the tea-table before her. Her forehead was slightly contracted, her lips parted with a quickened breath; but these faint indications were all that showed any agitation in her. She addressed her sister when she appeared in a sharper tone than usual. “You two have been having a little consultation,” she said. “Oh, quite right; quite right. Two heads are better than one. It might be considered a little ungenerous, perhaps, to the other who has no one to consult with--but I am used to it. I know what a single woman has to expect in life.” “Oh, Anna!” her sister said, with a faint remonstrance, “when you know that you are always our first thought.” “Your first thought! I did not know I was of so much importance,” said Miss Anna with a laugh. “One would scarcely think it to see how little attention you pay to me--either you or Geoff. But I must not complain: for it is your money as well as mine that he is so anxious to make a present of to the new claimants. And I can see very well what his motive is--very well. Oh, I know men and their motives, though I have never married. I can see through them well enough.” “My motive! what motive can I have but justice?” the young man said. “Oh, Geoffrey! hush, my dear. When you know it is your aunt’s way. Why should there be any quarrelling, to make everything worse?” “Yes, it is his aunt’s way. I am not the sort of fool that accepts everything,” said Miss Anna. “I can read him like a book. He has had to have his living doled out to him through you and me, and now he sees a way of getting the better of us--of turning the tables upon us. Oh, it is clear enough. Two girls--two silly creatures that will believe every word he says; but take my advice, Geoffrey, and choose the little one. She is the one that you can turn round your little finger; the other has a will of her own. Though it is against my own interest, you see, I can still give you good advice.” Geoffrey made no reply to this speech. His mother fluttered between him and Miss Anna with her hands spread out like the wings of a protecting bird, ready to burst in and forestall him had he attempted to reply; but he did not speak for some minutes. Then he said coldly, “We must not quarrel, as my mother says. We are all threatened with a great danger. For anything we can tell, the girls you are talking of so lightly can take the greater part of our living from us. The question not only is, have they a real claim? but can they establish it? and how far are we ready to go in the way of resistance? Rather, how far are _you_ ready to go? Will moral certainty be enough for you, or do you demand legal proof?”