formed a subject of discussion between him
and his father. Her pride would have instantly
taken alarm at any suggestion of the kind.

Now it was a shrewd knowledge of this
feature in Mabel's character that led Miss Penelope
Charlewood to undertake the diplomatic
mission referred to in the heading of the present
chapter. Mr. Charlewood had a high idea of
his eldest daughter's good sense and practical
abilities, and was in the habit of discussing
family matters with her, very confidentially. On
business, Mr. Charlewood never spoke to his
"women folk," as he called them. "I earn
the money, and they spend it," said he, " and I
think they can't complain of that division of
labour." Which sounded very magnanimous
in Mr. Charlewood's opinion; but he forgot
the consideration that absence of responsibility
implies absence of power. Mr. Charlewood
himself was fond of power, and jealous of it.

A few mornings after the conversation he had
held with Clement in the dining-room, Mr.
Charlewood was walking up and down the
terrace at Bramley Manor, enjoying the sunshine
and a cigar, after breakfast. Penelope was
his usual companion in these morning strolls,
Mrs. Charlewood being averse to walking under
any circumstances, and Augusta eschewing any
tête-à-tête with her father as much as possible.
"For, I never know what to say to papa,"
professed Miss Augusta.

"You don't really think there's anything in
it, Penny, do you?" said Mr. Charlewood.
His meaning, literally rendered, would have
been, " You don't suppose your brother
Clement is such an egregious fool as to contemplate
making a girl his wife who has not a
penny in the world?"

"No, papa nothing serious, that is to say;
but I scarcelv think I would have said anything
to Clement about it, if I had been you."

"Why?"

"Why, papa, Clem won't bear too tight a
hand, you know; you can't ride him with a
curb."

"There was no talk of curbs, Penny; I
simply expressed my opinion." Mr. Charlewood,
having reached the end of the terrace, turned
and paced to its opposite extremity in silence;
then he said, slowly, " Do you think the girl
has any notion of the sort in her head?"

"Oh, she'd be willing enough, no doubt,"
returned Penelope; but it may be doubted
whether there was not more spite than sincerity
in the speech.

"It won't do, Penny," said Mr. Charlewood.

"Papa, I think I can manage Mabel. She's
as proud as Lucifer, and—"

"Proud, is she?" said Mr. Charlewood,
raising his eyebrows.

"Preposterously proud. Mind, I like Mabel.
She has salt and savour, and is worth a
thousand every-day misses; but I don't want her for
a sister-in-law. Now, if she had a hint neatly
given her that Clement's family did not covet
the honour of her alliance, she would fly off

instantly into some exalted region, and treat
Clem coldly the very next time she saw him."

"Do you think so, Penny r" said her lather,
doubtfully. To him it appeared incredible
that any girl should willingly relinquish such a
chance.

"Yes, papa; I really do think so." And
then it was agreed between father and daughter,
before they parted, that Penelope should act
in the matter as she thought best.

Accordingly, next day Miss Charlewood told
her mother that she thought it would be kind
to make a personal visit of inquiry at Jessamine
Cottage, and suggested that their afternoon
drive should be taken in that direction.

To Mrs. Charlewood a suggestion of her
eldest daughter's came almost in the light of a
command. Penelope had contrived to make
herself considerably feared in the household,
and her mother was perhaps more in awe of
her than any one else.

"I shan't go," said Augusta. " I hate going
to people's houses when there's sickness. You
don't care a bit. I wish I was as unfeeling as
you, Penny."

"So do your friends, I dare say," replied
Penelope.

Miss Charlewood had taken care not to give
her mother any hint of the errand she was bound
on. " Mamma would say either too much or too
little; and Mabel would be far too clever for
her. We must keep mamma in the dark."
This had been Miss Charlewood's decision as
expressed to her father.

On their arrival at Jessamine Cottage, the
ladies were informed that Mr. Saxelby was out,
but that Mrs. Saxelby and Miss Mabel were at
home.

"Out?" said Mrs. Charlewood to the servant-
maid, raising two fat hands which were tightly
compressed into bright yellow gloves: " Out?
You must be mistaken. I thought he was too
ill to leave the 'ouse."

"Master has been bad, ma'am, but he's been
mending rapid these last two or three days; and
to-day he is gone to the office for an hour
or so."

"I am very glad to hear it," said Miss
Charlewood; " we will see the ladies, if we
may."

The visitors were ushered into the morning-
room, and found Mrs. Saxelby and Mabel at
work there. The former rose somewhat in a
flutter to greet her guests. She knew herself
to be a better bred, better educated, and more
intelligent woman than the rich contractor's
wife, and yet she could never repress a feeling
of timidity in Mrs. Charlewood's presence. Not
that the latter intended to be arrogant or
insolent, neither was she loud in talk, or captious
in temper; but Mrs. Saxelby was meek and
weak, and Mrs. Charlewood's rustling satins
and sweeping velvets—nay, even her very size,
and the way in which her garments seemed to
overflow the little sitting-room—oppressed Mrs.
Saxelby with a sense of her own comparative
insignificance.