Lucy opened her eyes so innocently. “My dear aunt, I wonder at that question from you. Did you not make me promise you I would never marry that gentleman, nor any friend of my uncle's?”
“And did you?” cried Fountain.
“I did,” replied the penitent, hanging her head. “My aunt was so kind to me about something or other, I forget what.”
Fountain bounced up and paced the room.
Mrs. Bazalgette lowered her voice: “It is to be Mr. Hardie, then?”
“Mr. Hardie!!!” cried Lucy, rather loudly, to attract her uncle's attention.
“Oh, no, the same objection applies there; I made my uncle a solemn promise not to marry any friend of yours, aunt. Poor uncle! I refused at first, but he looked so unhappy my resolution failed, and I gave my promise. I will keep it, uncle. Don't fear me.”
It caused Mrs. Bazalgette a fierce struggle to command her temper. Both she and Fountain were dumb for a minute; then elastic Mrs. Bazalgette said:
“We were both to blame; you and I did not really know each other. The best thing we can do now is to release the poor girl from these silly promises, that stand in the way of her settlement in life.”
“I agree, madam.”