is always there, I believe. My idea is, that they mean to make a
match of it. It is, indeed."

"Oh, no; I don't think that."

"Don't you now? Well, you have been in the house, and must have seen
a great deal. But what else can bring him there so much?"

"Miss Todd says he's always talking about you."

"About me; what nonsense!" And Miss Baker went up to her room rather
better pleased than she had been.

Caroline, as will be remembered, had written to Adela with the
tidings of her new engagement. Adela had answered that letter
affectionately, but shortly; wishing her friend every happiness,
and saying what little in the cheerful vein she could allow herself
to say on such an occasion. The very shortness of her letter had
conveyed condemnation, but that Adela could not help.

Caroline had expected condemnation. She knew that she would be
condemned, either by words or by the lack of them; it was nearly
equal to her by which. Her mind was in that state, that having half
condemned herself, she would have given anything for a cordial
acquittal from one she loved and valued. But she did not expect it
from Adela, and she did not receive it.

She carried herself with a brave face, however. To her grandfather,
to Miss Baker, and to her betrothed, she showed no sign of sorrow, no
sign of repentance; but though there was, perhaps, no repentance in
her heart, there was much sorrow and much remorse, and she could not
keep herself wholly silent.

She wrote again to Adela, almost imploring her for pity. We need not
give the whole letter, but a portion of it will show how the poor
girl's mind was at work. "I know you have judged me, and found me
guilty," she said. "I can tell that from the tone of your letter,
though you were generous enough to endeavour to deceive me. But you
have condemned me because you do not know me. I feel sure that what
I am doing, is prudent, and, I think I may say, right. Had I refused
Sir Henry's offer, or some other such offer--and any offer to me
would have been, and must have been open to the same objections--what
should I have done? what would have been my career? I am not now
speaking of happiness. But of what use could I have been to any one?

"You will say that I do not love Sir Henry. I have told him that in
the usual acceptation of the word, I do not love him. But I esteem
his high qualities; and I shall marry him with the full intention of
doing my duty, of sacrificing myself to him if nee