"Yes sir," she answered, chokingly. "You will excuse me to ——, downstairs?"
"Certainly. Would you like to have your mother come up to you?"
"Oh, no, sir! Please tell her there is no need of it. I shall be better to-morrow."
"Your sister"—and he looked more serious, instead of smiling—"has a visitor. Her friend is an acquaintance of yours, also, it appears—the Mr. Benson whom you met at your aunt's in July."
"Yes, sir. I know it."
"I understood you to say that Lucy had never said positively who her lover was; but this was not the name you told me of, as the person whom you imagined him to be."
"I was misled for a time myself, sir," replied the poor girl, pressing her temples between her palms.
"I see that I am tiring you. Forgive me! but it is so natural to consult you in everything. I must trouble you with some questions, which it is important should be answered to-night, before this gentleman and myself have any conversation. Is Mr. Benson a man whom you consider worthy of trust? Your mother represents him to be enormously wealthy—a reputation I had concluded he possessed, from Lucy's pet name for him. It is well that your sister has a prospect of marrying advantageously in this respect, for she would never be happy in an humble sphere; but antiquated people like myself regard other things as of greater consequence in concluding a bargain for a lifetime. Is your opinion of Mr. Benson favorable as to disposition, principles, and conduct?"
Sarah's head rested on the foot-board of her couch, in weariness or pain, as she rejoined: "I saw and heard nothing of him, during our intercourse in the country, that was not creditable. His uncle and aunt are very partial to him, and speak of his character in high terms. Their testimony ought to have weight with you, for they have known him from his boyhood up."