"From Mr. Lyne himself; he likes Harry very much, and talks to him quite confidentially, and Harry innocently told it to me as a piece of good fortune for our friend. He thinks Mr. Lyne an excellent fellow, and Flora a most lucky girl. They are of the same religion too, so that is a great point in his favour."
"Everything is in his favour," answered Mary, quickly; "but I hear mamma coming, Helena; are there any traces of tears upon my face?"
"None to speak of, none that will be observed if you sit with your back to the light; the place where you were sitting before will do perfectly."
Mary quickly changed her place to the writing-table, and Mrs. Elton's entrance put a stop to all further conversation on the subject about which the young ladies had been discussing so eagerly.
Mrs. Elton was handsomely and appropriately dressed, for a person of her age, although, perhaps, a little too much in the extreme of fashion. Her hair, or, at least, that part of it which her coiffure of ribbon and lace allowed to be seen, was of a lightish brown colour, and braided over a high, broad forehead, like Mary's. She had bright—but coldly bright—brown eyes, a straight nose, and thin drawn lips; her habitual expression was placid and determined, and it must be acknowledged that, for a lady of fifty-five, she was remarkably bien conservée, although she had altered a good deal of late, and at times looked much worn. As to character, she was a strange mixture. We have heard what her ideas on marriage were, yet she herself married a comparatively poor barrister, against the consent of all her family. Every worldly thing prospered with them; he succeeded in his profession, and she was left large sums of money by her relations, so that eventually they became very rich. She was a devoted wife; and when, after they had been married about fifteen years, her husband died, her grief was deep but undemonstrative. Thus she became a widow at seven or eight and thirty, and being wealthy, good-looking, and elegant, she did not want for suitors, but none of them could tempt her to be faithless to her husband's memory, although, after the usual time for mourning, she wore colours again, dressed richly, and seemed to study the becoming. She never—widow-fashion—made any professions of not marrying again; but she did it not. She would speak of her husband calmly, but her cold, bright eyes would fill with tears as she named "William;" and in speaking of her daughters, of her dread of their falling a prey to fortune-hunters, she would betray deep emotion; and yet, notwithstanding all this, she was, as we have seen, a determined enemy to love-marriages, and was sternly immovable towards Helena's predilection for Mr. Caulfield, merely because he had not a large fortune. Nevertheless Mrs. Elton's life proved that her only object on earth was her children's happiness, however enigmatical it may appear to be.
"You don't look well to-day, mamma," said Mary, as Mrs. Elton seated herself close to the fire, although one would have thought that fire in the room even was quite unnecessary.
"Nor do I feel very well," replied Mrs. Elton; "but luncheon and a drive afterwards will, I dare say, do me good. Your aunt is coming at two."
"I'm glad of that, as you will, perhaps, spare Helena and me to go to the Catacombs with Mrs. Penton. She asked Helena several days ago, but that giddy child forgot to tell of it until to-day; and now she wants me to go with her, as she says you do not always like her to go alone with Mrs. Penton."
"Helena is quite right; Mrs. Penton is too young and too handsome for a chaperone, particularly to one so thoughtless as Helena. You are far steadier than either of them, and I can very well spare you to-day;—indeed, if you did not go, I would ask your Aunt Alicia to accompany Helena. But of course it is pleasanter for her to have you."
"R-a-t-h-e-r, I should say," observed that young lady.