For a moment the widow coloured, as if in anger. ‘That is not exactly a complimentary remark, my dear Miss Redgrave.—Now, don’t apologise, for I am not in the least offended. How can I be, when I have a daughter, not only marriageable, but actually engaged to be married!’
The sisters simultaneously left off their needlework, and gazing in astonishment at the speaker, sat as mute as the twin sisters carved in stone in the sandy Egyptian desert.
‘Yes; Mr Lockwood has asked my consent to his marriage with Blanche, and I have graciously accorded the same. Heigh-ho! it will be a great trial for me, when the hour of parting comes.’
‘I congratulate you most sincerely, my dear Mrs Fraser,’ exclaimed Penelope. ‘We have known Frank from a child. He is everything that a man should be, clever, accomplished, with good prospects, and of high moral principles.’
The widow sighed. ‘I shall be very lonely. I have not an affectionate sister as you have; and when a woman has once known the happiness of married life, and the comfort and protection of an affectionate husband, life is indeed a blank when she is left utterly alone.’
Like a second Wellington, Penelope saw her chances of a successful attack. In love and war, the occasion is everything. She gently laid her spare fingers on the plump hand of the widow, and softly whispered: ‘Why should you be utterly alone, dear friend?’
Mrs Fraser directed an inquiring glance in response at the speaker.
‘We know of one who would be only too happy to be your companion for life,’ pursued Penelope. ‘Of a suitable age, amiable, and rich.’
The countenance of the widow was suffused with a soft blush as she said: ‘Where shall I find this earthly treasure?’
‘In this house, Mrs Fraser. Our beloved brother, Septimus.’