As it is not impossible the reader may in some slight degree participate in the fair widow's sentiment, we mean to take up the conversation just as it reached the time in which the remark was applied to it. Miss Becky Graham was giving her companion a sketchy description of all the persons then at the Abbey, not taking any especial care to be epigrammatic or picturesque, but to be literal and truthful. “Mrs. Maxwell,--an old horror,--tolerated just because she owns Tilney Park, and can leave it to whom she likes; and the Lyles hope it will fall to Mark, or, possibly, to Bella. They stand to win on either.” “And which is the favorite?” asked Maitland, with a faint smile. “You 'd like to think Isabella,” said Miss Becky, with a sharp piercing glance to read his thoughts at an unguarded moment, if he had such, “but she is not. Old Aunt Maxwell--she 's as much your aunt as theirs--detests girls, and has, I actually believe, thoughts of marrying again. By the way, you said you wanted money; why not 'go in' there? eight thousand a-year in land, real estate, and a fine old house with some great timber around it.” “I want to pay my old debts, not incur new ones, my dear Miss Graham.” “I 'm not your dear Miss Graham,--I 'm Beck, or Becky, or I 'm Miss Rebecca Graham, if you want to be respectful. But what do you say to the Maxwell handicap? I could do you a good turn there; she lets me say what I please to her.” “I'd rather you'd give me that privilege with yourself, charming Rebecca.” “Don't, I say; don't try that tiresome old dodge of mock flattery. I 'm not charming, any more than you are honest or straightforward. Let us be on the square--do you understand that? Of course you do? Whom shall I trot out next for you?--for the whole lot shall be disposed of without any reserve. Will you have Sir Arthur, with his tiresome Indian stories, enhanced to himself by all the lacs of rupees that are associated with them? Will you have the gay widow, who married for pique, and inherited a great fortune by a blunder? Will you have Isabella, who is angling for a coronet, but would not refuse _you_ if you are rich enough? Will you have that very light dragoon, who thinks 'ours' the standard for manners in Europe?--or the two elder brothers, gray-headed, pale-faced, husky-voiced civil servants, working hard to make a fortune in advance of a liver complaint? Say the 'number' and the animal shall be led out for inspection.” “After all, it is scarcely fair in me to ask it, for I don't come as a buyer.” “Well, if you have a taste for that sort of thing--are we out of sight of the windows?--if so, let me have a cigarette like that you have there. I have n't smoked for five months. Oh! is n't it a pleasure?” “Tell me about Mrs. Butler,--who is she?”