There was a gasp all round at this, and Miss Isabella warmly said, 'My dear Mrs. Harewood, do not let yourself be blinded. We know perfectly what the property is, and allowing for Mrs. Fulbert's settlement and any follies of the poor young man, I can assure you there is no reason your sisters should not remain at home, which is the only proper place for young women. I speak to you, as the married sister, who, as your brother Edward tells me, have acted the part of a mother. It is your bounden duty to protect your sisters.' (Wilmet had to frown at Robin, who sprang up in her chair.) 'Of course your brother is meaning to marry;' (The negative went for nothing.) 'You cannot expect anything else; but still it is his first obligation not to cast them off, but to provide a home for them near at hand—the only becoming thing.'

'Home is quite ready for us all, always,' cried Robina. 'My brother would never let us want that; but while I can, I had rather maintain myself than be a burthen upon him.'

'Ah! my dear, that is a dangerous because plausible spirit of pride and independence. As those who have tried can tell you, very little suffices single women, who have long ago broken with the world.'

This beautiful sentiment was received with an assenting breath by the other three, while Miss Isabella triumphantly added, 'And that your brother is bound to provide.'

'I saw it stated,' continued Miss Martha, 'that no one worthy the name of man will permit the ladies of his family to go out into the world for maintenance.'

'A man that provideth not for his own household,' whispered sadly even gentle Miss Hepburn.

'And, Isabella—tell them,' pursued Miss Bridget, 'from facts we know—'

'Yes,' said Miss Isabella, striking the nail. 'If it is alleged to you that the estate is not sufficient, I warn you that there must be something wrong about the matter.'

'You know,' said Wilmet, feeling it almost wrong to extend the misdeeds of the dead so much, 'the estate does not come clear.'

'I allow for that, but I know from Mrs. Fulbert herself what that is; and, pardon me, that is no sufficient plea, and you ought not to be allowed to think it is. Why, the Rectory alone is twelve hundred a year!'