“Shall I tell you frankly, Gusty,” continued she, “that I believe nothing—absolutely nothing—of these impending calamities? There is no sword suspended over us; or if there be, it is by a good strong cord, which will last our time. There are always plenty of dark stories in the City. Shares fall, and great houses tumble; but papa told me scores of times that he never put all his eggs into one basket; and Bramleigh and Underwood will be good names for many a day to come. Shall I tell you, my dear Augustus, what I suspect to be the greatest danger that now hangs over us? And I am quite ready to admit it is a heavy one.”
“What is it?”
“The peril I mean is that your sister Nelly will marry the curate. Oh, you may look shocked and incredulous, and cry impossible, if you like; but we girls are very shrewd detectives over each other, and what I tell you is only short of certainty.”
“He has not a shilling in the world; nor has she, independently of my father.”
“That's the reason. That's the reason. These are the troths that are never broken. There is nothing aids fidelity like beggary.”
“He has neither friends nor patrons; he told me himself he has not the vaguest hope of advancement.”
“Exactly so; and just for that they will be married. Now it reminds me,” said she, aloud, “of what papa once said to me. The man who wants to build up a name and a family ought to have few children. With a large household, some one or other will make an unhappy alliance, and one deserter disgraces the army.”
“A grave consideration for Lord Culduff at this moment,” said he, with a humorous twinkle of the eye.
“We have talked it over already,” said she.
“Once for all, Marion, no confidences about what I have been talking of.” And so saying, he went his way.