with, a woman who was innocence and purity
personified; who would perhaps, if she knew, shrink from him, refuse the
hand which she would think a soiled one. Dick had all this in his mind,
and it showed in his countenance, which was full of feeling, but feeling
of which Chatty understood nothing. He found her alone by the merest
chance. Everything seemed to work for him in this season of fortune. No
inquisitive sister, no intrusive brother-in-law, not even the mother
with her inquiring eyes was here to interrupt. The jar with the big
campanulas stood in the corner; the mignonettes breathed softly an
atmosphere of fragrance; her muslin work was in Chatty's hand.

Well, he had not a great deal to say. It had all been said by his eyes
in the first moment, so that the formal words were but a repetition.
The muslin work dropped after a few seconds, and Chatty's hands were
transferred to his to be caressed and kissed and whispered over. He had
loved her ever since that day when she had lightly pushed open the door
of the faded drawing-room at the Warren and walked in with her bowl of
roses. "That was the door of my heart," Dick said. "You had come in
before I knew. I can smell the roses still, and I shall ask Theo for
that bowl for a wedding present. And you, my Chatty, and you?"

Mrs. Warrender had her little triumph that afternoon. She said, with the
most delicate politeness: "I hope, Minnie, that Eustace after all will
be able to tolerate his new brother-in-law." Minnie gave her mother a
look of such astonishment as proved that the fine edge of the sarcasm
was lost.

"To tolerate--a Cavendish! I can't think what you mean, mamma! Eustace
is not an ignorant goose, though you seem to think so; nor am I."

"I am glad your Honours are pleased," said the ironical mother, with a
laugh. Minnie stared and repeated the speech to Eustace, who was not
very clear either about its meaning. But "Depend upon it, dear, your
mother meant to be nasty," he said, which was quite true.

After this, all was commotion in the house. Dick, though he had been an
uncertain lover, was very urgent now. He made a brief explanation to
Mrs. Warrender that his proposal had not been made at the time they
parted in London, "only because of an entanglement of early youth,"
which made her look grave. "I do not inquire what you mean," she said,
"but I hope at least that it is entirely concluded." "Entirely," he
replied with fervour; "nor am I to blame as yo