“Yes; come over on a visit. It was very kind of them, though we are beginning to tire of each other. The old man, M. Guillaume, he whom Farrel thought he had done away with, and his daughter-in-law, a young widow, and the little child, who is--the heir.” “The heir?--of the shop, you mean, I suppose.” “I do nothing of the kind, Everard, and it is unkind of you not to understand. The next heir to Whiteladies.” “Bah!” said Everard. “Make your mind easy, Aunt Susan. Herbert will marry before he has been six months at home. I know Herbert. He has been helpless and dependent so long, that the moment he has a chance of proving himself a man by the glorious superiority of having a wife, he will do it. Poor fellow! after you have been led about and domineered over all your life, of course you want, in your turn, to domineer over some one. See if my words don’t come true.” “So that is your idea of marriage--to domineer over some one? Poor creatures!” said Miss Susan, compassionately; “you will soon find out the difference. I hope he may, Everard--I hope he may. He shall have my blessing, I promise you, and willing consent. To be quit of that child and its heirship, and know there was some one who had a real right to the place--Good heavens, what would I not give!” “It appears, then, you don’t admire those good people from Bruges?” “Oh, I have nothing to say against them,” said Miss Susan, faltering--“nothing! The old man is highly respectable, and Madame Austin le jeune, is--very nice-looking. They are quite a nice sort of people--for their station in life.” “But you are tired of them,” said Everard, with a laugh. “Well, perhaps to say tired is too strong an expression,” said Miss Susan, with a panting at the throat which belied her calm speech. “But we have little in common, as you may suppose. We don’t know what to say to each other; that is the great drawback at all times between the different classes. Their ideas are different from ours. Besides, they are foreign, which makes more difference still.” “I have come to stay till Monday, if you will have me,” said Everard; “so I shall be able to judge for myself. I thought the young woman was very pretty. Is there a Monsieur Austin le jeune? A widow! Oh, then you may expect her, if she stays, to turn a good many heads.” Miss Susan gave him a searching, wondering look. “You are mistaken,” she said. “She is not anything so wonderful good-looking, even handsome--but not a beauty to turn men’s heads.” “We shall see,” said Everard lightly. “And now tell me what news you have of the travellers. They don’t write to me now.” “Why?” said Miss Susan, eager to change the subject, and, besides, very ready to take an interest in anything that concerned the intercourse between Everard and Reine.