"But, ladies," she continued, "is it probable that this man, who is now Lord Wilton's heir, will ever make such a woman as that a countess?"
"Ah," said Mrs. Barford, "I told you more than a year ago, Nancy, that we might live to see Dorothy Chance ride to church in her carriage."
"I'll believe it when I see it," remarked Mrs. Rushmere; "I should as soon expect seeing Martha Wood a countess."
"The girl is very pretty," said Mrs. Rowly, "there is no denying that; but I don't believe that she is either virtuous or over honest. My daughter caught her stealing silver spoons."
"How—what's that, who dares to call Dorothy a thief?" cried old Rushmere, starting to his feet. "If it were Goliath of Gath, I would tell him he lied. That a' wud."
"My wife did," replied Gilbert sullenly, "and had to eat her words. I think, Sophia, considering the part you took in that infamous affair, it would have been better for you to have held your tongue."
"Always against your wife, sir. But I know the reason why you are so savage this afternoon. You don't like to hear that Dorothy Chance is going to marry a better man than yourself," replied Sophia, in her softest tone.
"She deserves it, as much as I did a better wife."
He left the room slamming the door after him. Miss Watling raised her eyebrows, shrugged her shoulders, and cast a pitying look towards his wife. Sophia smiled, "that's a warning to all young unmarried ladies, Miss Watling, not to be too eager to get a husband. I can assure them, that it is far better to remain single."
"You may spare such advice, Mrs. Rushmere, it will never appear rational, except to the initiated," said Mrs. Barford. "From the time of Eve down-wards, old maids and young maids never will give up the hope of getting married. I had a maiden aunt of sixty, who put this proviso in her will: 'I leave all my personal property to my nephew, James Stanton; but in case of my marrying, an event not impossible, though rather improbable, I revoke the said bequest.'"