“The thing is settled,” said Miss Susan; “of course we must go. The house and everything in it belongs to Herbert. He will marry, of course. Did not you say to me this very afternoon that he was sure to marry?” “Yes,” Everard answered faintly; “but--” “There is no but,” she replied, with almost a triumphant air. “It is a matter of course. I shall feel leaving the old house, but I have no right to it, it is not mine, and I do not mean to make any fuss. In six months from this time, if all is well, we shall be out of Whiteladies.” She said this with again a little toss of her head, as if in satisfaction. Giovanna and M. Guillaume exchanged alarmed glances. The words were taking effect. “Is it settled?” said Augustine, calmly. “I did not know things had gone so far. The question now is, Who will Herbert marry? We once talked of this in respect to you, Everard, and I told you my views--I should say my wishes. Herbert has been restored as by a miracle. He ought to be very thankful--he ought to show his gratitude. But it depends much upon the kind of woman he marries. I thought once in respect to you--” “Augustine, we need not enter into these questions before strangers,” said Miss Susan. “It does not matter who is present,” said Augustine. “Every one knows what my life is, and what is the curse of our house.” “Pardon, ma sœur,” said M. Guillaume. “I am of the house, but I do not know.” “Ah!” said Augustine, looking at him. “After Herbert, you represent the elder branch, it is true; but you have not a daughter who is young, under twenty, have you? that is what I want to know.” “I have three daughters, ma sœur,” said M. Guillaume, delighted to find a subject on which he could expatiate; “all very good--gentille, kind to every one. There is Madeleine, who is the wife of M. Meeren, the jeweller--François Meeren, the eldest son, very well off; and Marie, who is settled at Courtray, whose husband has a great manufactory; and Gertrude, my youngest, who has married my partner--they will succeed her mother and me when our day is over. Ma sœur knows that my son died. Yes; these are misfortunes that all have to bear. This is my family. They are very good women, though I say it--pious and good mothers and wives, and obedient to their husbands and kind to the poor.” Augustine had continued to look at him, but the animation had faded out of her eyes. “Men’s wives are of little interest to me,” she said. “What I want is one who is young, and who would understand and do what I say.” Here Giovanna got up from her chair, pushing it back with a force which almost made Stevens drop the dish he was carrying. “Me!” she cried, with a gleam of malice in her eyes, “me, ma sœur! I am younger than Gertrude and the rest. I am no one’s wife. Let it be me.”