"You are right!... excellent woman!... You are right, and I deserve to see my father's acres peopled by a race of Barnaby's.... I will save her!..." But here the poor old lady stopped. A sudden panic seized her, and she sat for several minutes positively trembling at the idea that she might unadvisedly take some step which should involve her in the horrible necessity of being encumbered for the rest of her life with a companion whose looks or manner might remind her of a Martha Wisett, or a Mrs. Barnaby. "I dare not do it!" she exclaimed at last. "Do not ask it ... do not force me; ... or, at any rate, contrive to let me see her first, in a shop, or in the street, or any way.... I can decide on nothing till I have seen her!" "I would do anything within my power to arrange this for you," replied Mrs. Wilmot; "but I cannot delay my return beyond to-morrow; nor do I believe that my agency would render this more easy. Why should you not at once call on both your nieces, Miss Compton? There would be no difficulty in this, and it would give you the best possible opportunity of judging both of the appearance and manners of Agnes." "Both my nieces!... no difficulty!... You understand little or nothing of my feelings.... But go home, go home, Mrs. Wilmot. Do your own duty, which is a plain one, ... and leave me to find out mine, if I can." "You will not, then, abandon the idea of seeing this poor girl, Miss Compton?" "No, I will not," was the reply, pronounced almost solemnly. "Then, farewell! my dear madam; I can ask no more than this, except, indeed, your forgiveness for having asked thus much so perseveringly." "I thank you for it, Mrs. Wilmot.... I believe you are a very good woman, and I will endeavour to act, if God will give me grace, as I think you would approve, if you could read all the feelings of my heart. Farewell!" And so they parted; the active, useful matron to receive the eager welcome of her expecting family, and the solitary recluse to the examination of her own thoughts, which were alternately both sweet and bitter, sometimes cheering her with a vision of domestic happiness and endearment to soothe her declining age, and sometimes making her shudder as she fancied her tranquil existence invaded and destroyed by the presence of one whom she might strive in vain to love. CHAPTER XII. CHOOSING A LADY'S-MAID.--A HAPPY MEETING UNHAPPILY BROKEN IN UPON.--MISS COMPTON UTTERS A LONG FAREWELL TO AGNES.