Mrs. Blunden smiled quizzically.
“You are very polite, certainly; but, judging by what I know of my niece, she will follow her own inclinations, whether I say a yea or a nay to them. There, you needn’t redden and pretend to contradict me, child. You have the Heriton temper, like my poor brother, whom it led into all sorts of follies.”
“Shall you consider your niece’s acceptance of my hand in a similar light?” Mr. Aylwinne gravely inquired, while Florence’s annoyance at her aunt’s blunt speech ended in a smile at the retort it provoked.
“Certainly not,” Mrs. Blunden replied, with a gravity as great as his own, and much more real. “If I were not satisfied on the score of your worthiness to espouse her, I should have taken her away as soon as I had occasion to suspect your affection.”
“And you see no reason to object to our immediate union, I hope?” Mr. Aylwinne observed, without appearing to see the embarrassment of his betrothed.
Mrs. Blunden raised her eyebrows.
“Why, this is being in a hurry with a vengeance! Pray, when did you put the momentous question to my niece? In the character of her guardian, I consider that I have a right to know this.”
“Florence and I have understood each other since—last night,” he answered, with a little hesitation.
“Last night! And propose to be married to-morrow?” cried Aunt Margaret sarcastically. “Surely, Florence, you are no party to this—well, I really must call it indecorous haste?”
“My dear Mrs. Blunden,” said Mr. Aylwinne, interposing to prevent Florence’s reply, “if we are assured that we love each other, and may hope to spend our future together, what delay is required? Why oppose my wish to commence our new life as quickly as possible?”