hat her plans are already, to
live in Vanebury as soon as she is twenty-one, and devote herself to the
welfare of the working-people! Don't you call that a fad? Won't she make
a laughing stock of herself and of us too? Why, it's worse than
Radicalism--it's pure Socialism and Quixotry," said poor Sir John, who
was proud of his Toryism.

His wife only shook her head, and said, drily, that she would not
undertake to prophesy.

"Prophesy? My dear Selina, I merely want you to exert common caution and
foresight. There is but one thing to do with Anna. We must get her
married as soon as ever we can, before she is twenty-one, if possible.
She must marry a man on our own side, some years older than herself--a
man of the world, who will look after her property and teach her
common-sense--a man who can restrain her, and guide her, and make her
happy. I would give a thousand pounds to find such a man."

But in his own heart the baronet believed that he had found him, for he
thought of his friend, Sydney Campion.

Campion had small private means, if any; he knew that; but then he
seemed likely to be one of the foremost men of the day, and if he could
achieve his present position at his age, what would he not be in ten
years' time? Quite a match for Anna Pynsent, in spite of her beauty and
her sixty thousand pounds. If Nan had been a little more commonplace,
Sir John would have aspired higher for her. But there was a strain of
"quixotry," as he called it, in her nature, which made him always
uncertain as to her next action. And he felt that it would be a relief
to him to have her safely married to a friend of his own, and one whom
he could influence, if necessary, in the right direction, like Sydney
Campion.

Campion was a handsome fellow, too, and popular, Sir John believed, with
the ladies. It was all the more odd and unaccountable that Nan seemed to
have taken a dislike to him. She would not talk about his doings; she
would go out if she thought that he was likely to call. Sir John could
not understand it. And Campion seemed shy of coming to the house in
Eaton Square when the Pynsents returned to town; he was pleasant enough
with Sir John at the Club, but he did not appear to wish for much social
intercourse with Sir John's wife and sister. The worthy baronet would
have been a little huffed, but for the preoccupation of his mind with
other matters, chiefly political.

But this was in November and December; and he knew that