"I'm obliged to you, sir," said the old man, rising from his chair, and extending his hand; "you've acted like a gentleman, by Jove! like a gentleman and a man of honour. God bless my soul! how I recollect your father, Frank, and how like you are to him! And so you're going to marry little Barbara! not little Barbara now, though. How time flies! A good girl, sir; and a deuced fine girl, too, for the matter of that. What does her aunt say to that? She meant her for much higher game than you, young fellow. What does her aunt say? Does she know of it?--Does Miss Lexden know of it? I'll wager there'll be 'wigs upon the green,' as poor Dick Burke used to say, when she hears of it."
"Miss Lexden has heard of it, sir," said Churchill, smiling; "and I'm afraid she did not receive the news very auspiciously; but we shall endeavour to gain her consent, and if we fail--well, we must do without it. And now I won't keep you from your paper any longer. I thought it my duty to tell you, and having done so, I'll say good night."
"One minute, Frank Churchill; wait one minute. I'm a queer, useless old fellow--an old brute, I often think, for I'm not unconscious of the strange life I lead, and the odd--but, however, that's neither here nor there. Your father and I were boon companions--a wild, harum-scarum chap he was--and such company--and I've a regard for you, which is strengthened by your conduct to-night. My old cousin, Miss Lexden--well, she's an old lady, you know, and she meant Barbara for a marquis, at least; and then old women hate to be disappointed, you know, and she'll be savage, I've no doubt. But when you're once married, she won't be difficult to deal with, and so far as I can help you, I will. And now, God bless you, and good night; and--give Barbara a kiss for me in the morning."
About the same time, another conversation on the same great topic was going on under the same roof. Barbara had scarcely been five minutes in her room, and had been leaning thoughtfully, with her arms upon the window-sill, gazing out into the moonlit park, and utterly oblivious of Parker, who was preparing the instrument of torture for her mistress's hair, when Withers arrived with a message that Miss Lexden wished to speak to her niece. Obedient to the summons, Barbara crossed the landing, and found the old lady, resplendent in a dark-blue cashmere dressing-gown, seated before her fire. Withers dismissed pro tem., Miss Lexden said:
"I'll not detain you long, Barbara. I merely wished to know whether what you said this evening about your intended marriage with Mr. Churchill was jest or earnest."
"Thorough earnest," replied Barbara, regarding her stedfastly.
"As to marriage, I mean?" asked the old lady; "not as to a temporary flirtation, which, faute de mieux, with a pleasant man in a dull country house, is well enough, and not likely to tell against one's interests. But as to marriage?"
"What I said before, aunt," said Barbara slowly, never dropping her eyes, "I repeat. Mr. Churchill has done me the honour to ask me to become his wife. I have consented, and I mean to keep my word."
"Very well," said Miss Lexden, drawing a long breath; "I only wished to know. You are your own mistress, and control your own actions, of course. You have made your choice, and will abide by it. I don't seek to influence you one jot. But, recollect one thing: if I were to see you with broken health, with broken spirits, ill-used, deserted, starving--as is likely enough, for I know these people--I would not lift one finger to help you, after your degradation of me. I have said it, and you know I keep my word. That is all; we will have no quarrel, and give no occasion for shoulder-shrugs and scandal. The sooner your arrangements permit of your quitting my house, the better pleased I shall be. Now, good night. Withers, I am ready now. See Miss Lexden to her room. Good night, dear."
The old lady proffered her enamelled cheek, against which Barbara laid the tip of her nose. And so the aunt and niece separated for the night.