amazed her. "So, aunt," she concluded, "if you really love me, driving
me to the altar will be an unfortunate way of showing it."

While listening to this tirade, which the young lady delivered with
great serenity, and concluded with a little yawn, Mrs. Bazalgette had
two thoughts. The first was: "This girl is not flesh and blood; she is
made of curds and whey, or something else;" the second was: "No, she
is a shade hypocriticaler than other girls--before they are married,
that is all;" and, acting on this latter conviction, she smiled a
lofty incredulity, and fell to counting on her fingers all the moneyed
bachelors for miles.

At this Lucy winced with sensitive modesty, and for once a shade of
vexation showed itself on her lovely features. The quick-sighted,
keen-witted matron caught it, and instantly made a masterly move of
feigned retreat. "No," cried she, "I will not tease you anymore, love;
just promise me not to receive any gentleman's addresses at Font
Abbey, and I will never drive you from my arms to the altar."

"I promise that," cried Lucy, eagerly.

"Upon your honor?"

"Upon my honor."

"Kiss me, dear. I know you won't deceive me now you have pledged your
honor. This solemn promise consoles me more than you can conceive."

"I am so glad; but if you knew how little it costs me."