That young lady was leaning back in her great oak chair, in which she looked like the heroine of some sad and gorgeous romance of the old civil wars of England, and directing a gaze of contemplative and haughty curiosity upon the old lady, who was unconscious of the daring profanation.
All on a sudden Dorcas Brandon said—
'And pray what do you think of marriage, Lady Chelford?'
'What do I think of marriage?' repeated the dowager, throwing back her head and eyeing the beautiful heiress through her gold spectacles, with a stony surprise, for she was not accustomed to be catechised by young people. 'Marriage?—why 'tis a divine institution. What can the child mean?'
'Do you think, Lady Chelford, it may be safely contracted, solely to join two estates?' pursued the young lady.
'Do I think it may safely be contracted, solely to join two estates?' repeated the old lady, with a look and carriage that plainly showed how entirely she appreciated the amazing presumption of her interrogatrix.
There was a little pause.
'Certainly,' replied Lady Chelford; 'that is, of course, under proper conditions, and with a due sense of its sacred character and a—a—obligations.'
'The first of which is love,' continued Miss Brandon; 'the second honour—both involuntary; and the third obedience, which springs from them.'
Old Lady Chelford coughed, and then rallying, said—